The Spider and the Bird
by JaycenMackenzie
Summary: Assassins. Recruited by SHIELD and made partners on missions, assassins Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff could only call each other one thing: a friend. Being assassins, trouble always seems to be following them. The life of a killer is no easy job, but when Natasha's memories from the Red Room begin to return, the job becomes even tougher for the Black Widow.
1. Chapter 1

"_I got red in my ledger; I'd like to wipe it out." _–Natasha Romanoff, '_The Avengers', 2012_

* * *

14:34 24-AUG-09, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND

An immense explosion caused them to instinctively crouch down, wrapping their arms around their heads. When no debris fell on them, they got back up and continued to run. The cobblestone streets began to quake under their boots and dust was thick in the air. It was hard to see, but their practiced feet kept their balance amid the shaking. The rubber soles of their boots slapped loudly on the ground which could be heard very faintly over the low rumbles issuing from beneath them.

Just as the quaking stopped and the two thought that it was over, liquid spewed from all the sewage drains along the sidewalks. The few pedestrians who had not gotten out of the rumbling streets were drenched in the liquid. The liquid was as clear as water, but it proved to be something much more harmful. Screams and cries issued from those who were hit, their skin slowly began to blister. All of them were gripping wherever the acidic liquid met their bodies and continued to scream out in pain.

The only two that weren't affected by the liquid were the two assassins who looked around in shock at the people around them. One by one, the poor pedestrians collapsed. They were mostly men who they had herded their families inside thinking that there was an earthquake. Now they were huddled into writhing balls, some fingers gouging at their eyes which were beginning to burn from the liquid.

The assassins were about to help the men when another explosion, too close to them that time, occurred. The woman assassin was thrown off guard and was knocked off her feet. She landed on the ground, pebbles lodged in her hands which had stopped her fall. Her partner, a man, had managed to keep his balance and hauled the woman up. They began to run again, the dying pedestrians forgotten.

At the end of the street, a helicopter was waiting for them, the rotors whirring in an almost welcoming sound. The woman grasped her partner's arm and helped him onto the rope ladder hanging from the copter. She had one foot in the helicopter when shots began to be fired. One bullet managed to go straight through the open window and embedded into the pilot's forehead. Immediately, the helicopter began to fall and the two assassins quickly leaped out of the falling craft, not wanting to get caught in the crash. The other two agents who were in the helicopter weren't as fast and were still trapped as the aircraft landed with a crash.

Immediately, the two assassins were surrounded by men in masks. All of the masked men were carrying weapons varying in sizes from semi- automatic pistols to machine guns. The woman's hand automatically went for her hand guns and the man grabbed his bow, one hand over his shoulder to grab an arrow. But as they glanced around at the dozens of armed men, they knew they were outnumbered.

Surprisingly, no one shot them, but they had a circle formed around them with the guns pointed in their direction. The assassins stood there, not lowering their weapons either. When a loud cough issued from somewhere outside the circle, their heads whirled around, searching for the person who made the sound.

A man made his way through the ring of masked men. He was tall and lean with light-colored hair. He was carrying no weapons, but his presence unnerved the woman. She felt as if she had met him before, but she had no idea when or where. Pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head, the man stared them down, his piercing green eyes searching them. His eyes rested on the woman's low-cut skintight cat suit, making her want to pull the zipper up a little higher.

His mouth stretched into a wide grin his bright white teeth slightly blinding the two assassins. Adjusting his expensive-looking suit, he stepped closer to the woman. Her partner instinctively moved towards her.

The green-eyed man smirked at the movement. "Now, now," he said, "you don't have to do that. I would not dare to hurt your partner." An accent which the assassins couldn't place colored the man's speech. "Do you know who I am?"

The assassins stayed silent. The other man clucked his tongue.

"Good," he said leaning closer to the woman who looked uncomfortable at the proximity. He smiled again. "I know who you are. I know who you work with. I know everything about you two."

The words were met with silence. The usual sounds of traffic and even birds chirping seemed to have disappeared. There wasn't a single sound except for the shallow breathing of the two assassins.

The man spoke again. "Detain them," he ordered the masked men.

At once, the assassins were grabbed from all directions, their struggles futile. Their weapons were taken from them and stowed away by one of the men. The woman shouted out a string of curses in Russian. The man managed to take out two of the masked men, but then five more took their place. Two hard punched to the head knocked the man out. The woman had her head hit against the ground which put her into unconsciousness as well.

* * *

16:21 24-AUG-09, UNKNOWN COUNTRY

"You will tell me what you took." A slap to the face caused the woman to scowl at her attacker. "Tell me or I will cut out your tongue."

The woman stayed silent. The muscular man slapped her again, then reached into his pocket and took out a small serrated knife. As soon as he held it within an inch of her face, she kicked his kneecaps hard with her feet. With her hands tied behind her back and onto the chair, she stood up, silently thanking that they didn't bind her feet as well. The three other men who were standing guard charged at her but she beat them all back using the plastic chair as a weapon. Whirling around, throwing off whoever jumped her, soon enough only one man was left.

The last man saw that it was useless to fight her empty-handed, so he picked up his fallen comrade's knife and held it in front of him. As he ran towards her brandishing the knife, she spun around again. The man wasn't fast enough to react and had the knife thrown out of his grip. In a last futile attempt to subdue her, he grabbed her around the legs and pulled her down. The bindings kept the woman attached to the chair, so she was lying with her back to the ground and her feet dangling above her. As the attacker was about to make the final blow to her head, she rolled out of the way, kicking the man in the groin.

"_Miststück_!" he groaned in German.

The woman struggled to get up. When she did, she noticed a row of weapons along one wall of the room. Various daggers and axes were facing out which provided the woman a perfect place to cut off her binds. Once free, she went back to the man who was still moaning and punched his head.

"_Scheißkerl_," she said to the unconscious man, returning his insult.

Finally not having to defend herself, she got a good look at the room. It seemed to be a deserted factory of some sort. Old machines lay unused and rusting throughout the room. The concrete walls were crumbling revealing the pipes and metal frame behind it. There was only one floor, but the ceilings were very high. No windows made it difficult for the woman to find out where she was.

One doorway led out to a large hallway. The woman picked up a couple of pocket knives and a stray gun and put it into her now-empty belt around her waist. Her leather cat suit was torn in some places, but it wasn't anything that she couldn't fix. Her thick-soled boots were still both on and fastened. Her long red hair was tangled and plastered to her forehead by sweat.

With a determined expression, she set off down the hallway to find her partner.

* * *

16:30 24-AUG-09, UNKNOWN CITY

A man sat, tied to an examination table. His whole body was bound by thick leather straps rendering him incapable of even twitching his wrists. Another masked man stood over him holding a remote control. Two other masked men were in the shadows watching the scene unfold.

"One last time," the man holding the remote said. "What did you take from the _gruft_? The crypt, what the hell did you take from it?"

The bound man's mouth didn't budge. He was rewarded with an extremely painful electric shock. The masked man had pushed a button causing electricity to course through his entire body.

As he lay panting, the masked man looked down at him. "You will tell me. Otherwise, we'll kill the woman."

"What woman?" The metal door was opened with a bang, hitting one of the men by the door. A red-headed woman stood with a gun in her hand. She was glaring at the man with the remote. "Put the remote down," she said quietly in a menacing tone.

The masked man seemed to be grinning. "Get her," he ordered.

The woman disposed of the two other masked men as easily as she had the ones just a few minutes prior. She was about to shoot the man with the remote when he held it out.

"Put the gun down or I will kill this man." He gestured to the man strapped to the table. His finger hovered over a small blue button on the remote.

The red-head looked from the masked man to her partner. Her partner's face was covered with sweat. His light eyes pleaded to her to get him free. The woman made to put her gun down and discreetly drew a knife from her boot.

"Now, _frau_," the masked man said. "Stand still. This will only hurt your partner for a little bit."

"Like hell," the woman growled. She threw the knife straight at the masked man's head, his eyes widening slightly as the blade made its mark. The masked man collapsed with blood dripping down his forehead.

She hurriedly unstrapped her partner from the table. He sat up groaning. The woman stomped on the remote that was in the fallen man's hand and it broke into several small pieces.

"Thanks," her partner said. "Black Widow."

"I'm just glad you're not dead, Hawkeye."

* * *

**A/N: Please R&R, but no flames!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.**

**A/N: Thanks to those who already followed, favourited and reviewed this story!**

* * *

16:44 24-AUG-09, UNKNOWN CITY

"Let's go to the roof." The man with the bow and arrows pointed to the staircase. He preferred to be up high where he was able to see everything around him.

His partner agreed and they ascended the rickety staircase. They found the door to the roof barricaded, but the man kicked the door powerfully with his boot-clad foot a few times, and the door swung open. The sudden brightness from the afternoon sun temporarily blinded the man and woman whose eyes were accustomed to the darkened interior of the warehouse.

The view that the two saw from the roof surprised them. They didn't expect to still be in Europe, much less Switzerland. The familiar skyline of Zurich, Switzerland was laid out before them. From their spot, they could see a part of the city where police officers swarmed the area. That was the street where the acidic liquid had spewed out of the sewers.

"Natasha," the man said, nudging his partner. "Do you think those people survived?"

The woman turned to him. "I don't know, Clint."

"Should we-"

"No," Natasha said firmly. "We are _not_ going to check on them. It wasn't our fault. Their city can deal with whatever caused that to happen."

Clint's light eyes continued to watch the scene in the distance. He knew that whoever caused the eruptions was targeting him and Natasha. The attacker must have been someone who knew who they were and their motives in Switzerland. They had been sent to look into a secret underground crypt and retrieve some information on it. Natasha was responsible for getting into the vaults and actually getting the papers. Clint had to watch her back, tracking her with a special device from their agency, and take any potential attackers away from her.

That had always been Clint's job: having a birds' eye view. His bow and arrows was a perfect match for him because it allowed him to take down a target unawares from any distance. Clint was the world's best marksman. He recognized that fact although it seemed a bit pompous. Ever since he discovered his talent while in a travelling circus, he had never parted with his bow. Natasha had teased him about it, saying that he probably slept with it (which he had only done once, but he had truly been drunk that night).

"Clint," Natasha said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "We should go. S.H.I.E.L.D. will want to know that we're alive."

Clint put a hand to his ear where is earpiece usually was. It was gone. Their captors must have spotted them and removed them while they were unconscious.

"Wait, Nat," Clint said, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder. "What about that other guy earlier? Did you see him? Or better yet, did you kill him?"

"You mean the guy with the sunglasses?" Natasha asked, and Clint nodded. "I didn't see him. If he was ever in this building, he's probably long gone by now."

"Have you seen him before?"

Natasha hesitated. "I think so. I sort of recognize him, but I have no idea where I'd seen him."

"Maybe you saw him during your time in the-" Clint paused seeing the warning look on Natasha's face, "the Red Room."

As soon as the two words were uttered, Natasha felt a rush of blood go to her head. Instantly, her vision began to darken and she couldn't do anything to stop it. Then, she passed out.

* * *

_Natalia was facing a plain grey wall. She longed to look anywhere else in the room except for that spot. Lined up against the wall were three humans with cloth bags over their heads. Their hands were tied to the wall. One of them was visibly shaking while the other two stood almost completely still. It was as if they thought standing still would spare them._

_A man with blonde hair and piercing green eyes smiled at Natalia. It was a menacing smile that Natalia didn't return. He tossed her a knife and she caught it easily in one hand. _

_"You know what to do," the man said. "Just kill them and you will officially become the __черная__вдова__." Black Widow. "I want you to make them suffer and see the fear in their eyes before you kill them. Take the bag off their heads."_

_Natalia pulled the bags off roughly revealing three girls, no older than twenty, with their grimy faces looking vacant. Natalia recognized them. They were also part of the Red Room Academy, competing for the same title that Natalia was. Natalia had thought that they had already been killed after not being qualified. _

_One girl, whose name Natalia didn't remember, stared her down, blue eyes to green. A look of fear was absent, but rather a look of pity and a bit of anger was present. For a moment, Natalia thought of sparing them and somehow having them escape, but then a thought of Alexi's face made her lose that idea. Once again, Natalia's eyes hardened and with a swift kick to the stomach, she made the girl stumble to the side a bit, the ropes around her wrists holding her up. _

_The girl, having been trained the way that Natalia had, didn't begin to wheeze like anyone else would have. Instead, she continued to look at Natalia with pitying eyes. For some reason, that made Natalia angry. Drawing back a tight fist, she punched the girl's nose hearing a satisfactory crack. Blood instantly streamed out of her nose. Natalia continued to beat the girl cruelly, but not once did a gasp or cry emit from the girl. At last, Natalia snapped the girl's neck, causing the light to leave her bright eyes._

_"Natalia!" the man called. "Stop. Don't touch the other girls."_

_Natalia's head snapped back to the man. The man smiled again and gestured for her to go to him. Once she stood within five feet of him, he stopped her with a hand. _

_"You are now the Black Widow," he said. "Natalia Romanova, you are free to go. For now. If we are in need of your services, then you will come straight back to us." _

_She was at the door when the man said, "Just remember this, __черная__вдова__, if you ever decide to turn your back on us, we will find you. We will kill you. You may be strong, but remember that we are the ones who trained you."_

_"I'm not afraid of you, Bogrov," she replied coldly. _

_"Oh, but you should be."_

_Natalia turned her back on Aleksandr Bogrov and left the room quickly, not looking back as two gunshots was fired back inside the room._

* * *

16:49 24-AUG-09, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND

"Natasha." A familiar voice was calling her as she slowly regained consciousness.

Her eyes flew open and she winced at the bright sunlight that was shining directly down on her. When she could see again, she saw Clint kneeling next to her with a concerned look on his face.

"Nat, are you alright?" he asked placing a hand on her arm.

"Yeah," she lied, remembering her flashback. "I'm fine. Just… dehydrated I suppose."

The look on Clint's face told Natasha that he didn't believe her, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he helped her up, handing her the gun that she had dropped.

"We'd better go find a phone to call Fury," Clint suggested at last.

"We have to blow this place up first." Natasha held up a couple grenades that she kept in her belt.

A small smile tugged at Clint's mouth.

"Plan R?" Clint asked.

The plan was that they rappelled down the side of the building, tossing grenades in through the windows. It would be timed so that they would be safely on the ground by the time the grenades blew.

Natasha nodded. "Go on, Arrowhead. Jump."

Clint readied his bow. Taking a deep breath, he leaped off the side of the building, twisting his body around in midair so that his back was facing the ground. Then, he grabbed an arrow and released it. The grapple-hook arrow latched onto the ledge of the roof. He saw Natasha watching him from around 20 feet above him. Clint pressed a button on his bow which stopped the rope from lowering him.

"Now?" Natasha called.

"Yeah."

Natasha carefully placed on foot on the other side of the ledge. Then she slid her whole body down and grabbed the rope that was suspended between the building and Clint. Slowly, she shimmied down, stopping right above Clint. He was careful not to look straight up at her, or else he would be pressing his nose against her behind which he was sure she wouldn't appreciate.

She glanced down at Clint holding onto the rope tightly. She didn't want to fall now, or else the whole mission would've been pointless.

"Hold onto me," Clint said. "We have to rappel down together."

She clambered precariously onto Clint, putting her arms around his neck. Loosening one arm so she could toss the grenade in time, Natasha nodded to Clint, signaling for him that she was ready. The archer pressed the button on his bow again plunging them towards the ground. Natasha aimed one grenade into a window, and a couple floors down, she tossed the other one in. They reached the ground and Clint tossed the now- useless arrow away.

The two assassins ran quickly away from the warehouse. Just as they reached the street, the building exploded, the higher floors collapsing in on it. Luckily, there wasn't anyone around the deserted neighbourhood. Natasha hadn't thought about the civilian factor when they were up there. If someone had seen them toss the grenades in, they would've been reported to the police. It wasn't like that was a problem though because she had several aliases registered, none of which were her real name.

"Let's go before anyone comes to the site," Clint said, tugging on Natasha's arm.

* * *

17:18 24-AUG-09, SHIELD HELICARRIER

"Did you find out who was behind it?"

Natasha and Clint were aboard the SHIELD helicarrier and were reporting back to the SHIELD director, Nick Fury. Their one-eyed boss was sitting at the meeting table in the main control room. Agent Phil Coulson, assistant director, was also there. He was standing behind Fury with her arms crossed, listening intently to the assassins' recount of the mission.

Clint was shaking his head to Fury's question when Natasha said, "Yes."

The archer looked questioningly at his partner. "What? You know his name?"

Natasha sighed. "I know him from the Red Room." Clint looked down at his folded hands. He knew that Natasha didn't like talking about her past, especially her horrific time in the Red Room.

"Go on, Agent Romanoff," Fury urged her.

"His name is Aleksandr Bogrov," she said. "He was a trainer during my time in the Red Room. He was the one who… chose me to be Black Widow. He was there in Switzerland with a whole army of masked men. Clint and I were taken to a warehouse, as we said before, and we didn't see him there. We assume that he ran off when he heard us escaping."

Fury turned to Agent Coulson. "Find out everything about Bogrov, then report back to me."

"Yes, sir." With that, he left.

"And what happened to your comms?" Fury asked the assassins.

"Taken, I assume," Clint replied. "And probably destroyed, or else you probably would've heard something."

Fury shook his head. "I didn't hear anything unusual from the comms," he said. "Now, tell me what you found. You have the papers, right?"

Natasha reached into the neckline of her cat suit and retrieved a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it and slid it across the table to Fury.

"I thought that women only put phones and money in there," Clint mumbled, gesturing the Natasha's chest.

His statement was ignored. Fury was scanning through the papers, his eye that wasn't covered by the eye patch moving quickly and slowly widening. Then, Fury muttered, "Shit," and he stood up and left the room. His chair was still spinning by the time Natasha registered that he left.

"What the hell just happened?" she said.

"Maybe something in the papers scared him," Clint suggested. "Did you read what was on the documents?"

"Actually, no."

"I didn't either. We were in such a rush to escape, so I didn't even bother to check that we had all the files."

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed. What could've been on the paper that was so alarming, that it could upset Nick Fury?

* * *

**A/N: Please R&R, but no flames, thank you very much!**

**Until next time, JM**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait guys, but I had stuff to do. Thanks to those who already followed, favourited and reviewed this story!**

* * *

17:20 24-AUG-09, SHIELD HELICARRIER

Director Nick Fury had never been the one to show much emotion. Whenever he was happy, sad or scared, he tended to keep a straight face. Unless someone provoked him, or there was a reason where it was impossible to stay poker-faced, he was known as the 'Deadpan Pirate'. His eye patch called for many jokes to be made behind his back, which, despite his loss of sight in one eye, he was _still able to hear_.

The paper that they gave him had caused Director Fury to lose his straight-face for the first time in front of his two best assassins. Clint almost got up to follow their boss, but Natasha pulled him back down shaking her head.

"If he left us," Natasha said, "then he wouldn't want to tell us about whatever was on that note... straight to our faces, at least."

Clint grinned. "Well, we'll have to find out ourselves."

* * *

"Damn it, Clint," Natasha hissed, rubbing her forehead, "watch where you put your boot."

"Sorry, Nat."

The two assassins were crawling through the narrow air vents of the SHIELD helicarrier. Starting in the one in Clint's room, they made their way to find Fury. They'd been crawling for a few minutes now, careful not to make any noises that might alert whoever was in the room they were passing.

Finally, they heard the familiar voice of their boss: "It's just the safety of my best female assassin that I'm worried about!"

Natasha and Clint looked at each other in the dim glow from the room below. Her forehead creasing, Natasha leaned closer to the vent's window, seeing Fury with his arms crossed, facing the large screens on the walls. There were four people on screen, their faces slightly shadowed by the lack of light on their side. They were staring down at Fury, their expressions unconcerned.

"As one of the best assassins known to us, I'm sure Miss Romanoff is able to take care of herself," one of the people on screen said.

"The threat that they are posing doesn't seem to be something that an army could deal with, much less herself," Fury shot back, his voice rising slightly.

"What do you want us to do?"

"I could gather-"

"No," another shadowed person snapped. "We are not going to start the Avengers initiative."

"The Avengers?" Clint whispered, his forehead creasing. "Have you heard of that?"

"Yeah," she said. "He mentioned it to me. Remember last year when Tony Stark revealed that he was Iron Man?"

"The guy who runs Stark Industries?"

"That's the one. And you've heard of Bruce Banner, a.k.a. the Hulk. They are people that Fury's considering to start the Avengers with. They're a group of super humans who would be practically unstoppable."

"Superheroes," Clint muttered.

They turned their attention back to Fury who was now pacing agitatedly back and forth in front of the monitors. He seemed to be thinking hard, not listening to what the people on screen were telling him.

"Director Fury," a man said. "There is nothing that we can do."

"Are you _shitting_ with me?" Fury exclaimed. "As the World Security Council, I'd expect that you would take in consideration a threat such as this one. According to this paper," Fury waved the folded up sheet that Natasha had given him, "The Red Room is planning to send him to us. And they plan on sending more like him who are going to target the best of our agents, starting with Miss Romanoff."

A silence was met with Fury's words. The council seemed to be contemplating whether or not to help the Director.

"I'm sorry, Director Fury," a woman said. "But since there isn't any other proof that such threat is hanging over us, other than a piece of paper that says so, there is nothing we can do."

Fury glared at each screen one last time before pressing the off button. Sighing, he leaned against the wall, rubbing his face. At last, he strode out of the room, the automatic door closing behind him.

* * *

23:46 24-AUG-09, SHIELD HELICARRIER

Natasha couldn't sleep. As she stared out the small bulletproof window in her room, she knew that it was futile to think about what she had overheard that evening. She kept thinking of who the _him _Fury was talking about.

Tossing and turning in bed, Natasha had been awake for an hour, thinking about the threat. She was wondering if Tony Stark could help her. After all, he had an Iron Man suit that had the ability to shoot and kill just about anything. But she knew that he barely knew about SHIELD and therefore, would probably be unwilling to help her.

When she began to feel uncomfortably warm she peeled off her blankets. Dressed in only a dark thin camisole and matching silk shorts, she slipped on a pair of flip flops and set off down the empty hallway. The SHIELD Helicarrier was generally quiet every night, with only a few guards dressed in black present, patrolling the halls. Natasha knew that they recognized her, but kept her identification in her hand just in case.

Once at her destination, she knocked on the door quietly, hoping that the person wasn't asleep yet. Just as she hoped, Clint appeared at the door, still fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He rubbed his eyes and looked blearily at Natasha.

"Hey, Nat," he said, not looking surprised. "Can't sleep?"

Natasha shrugged and Clint took that as a yes. He opened the door a bit wider to let his partner in. Having visited his room many times in the past year to talk to him on nights like this, she smiled slightly at the mess. On the floor were pairs of shoes and a few t-shirts. His desk was littered with papers and a couple books. The only things that were in place were the suit he wore on missions- an extra bow and arrows included- and his beloved sunglasses. They were neatly folded and piled on a shelf right outside his small closet.

Sighing, Natasha sat on his still-made bed. Clint took a seat across from her on his desk chair, waiting for her to start talking.

"Did I wake you?" she asked.

"Sort of," he said. "I fell asleep at writing the mission report for Fury."

"Since when did we have to write reports?"

Clint's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Since the new agent… paid me," he said sheepishly.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha said, "God, Clint. I thought that I didn't get a memo or something. Is it Agent Bitch?"

The newly accepted agent named Lana Birch had caught the attention of many men at SHIELD. She was tall, blonde and skinny with a big chest. Her standard issue SHIELD uniform of a skirt was worn a bit shorter than it was supposed to be. Natasha had overheard a couple of other female agents muttering darkly about Agent Birch, calling her Agent Bitch behind her back.

"Agent _Birch_, Nat," Clint corrected her. "She's really nice. I don't understand why you girls are acting so immature."

"Immature?" Natasha scoffed. "At least we aren't the ones who are easily bought like _some _people." Shaking her head, she said, "Anyways, I just came to talk to you about something."

"It's what we heard this afternoon," Clint stated, rather than asked. He knew her too well.

She nodded. "I don't even know why I'm taking it so harshly. There is no proof whatsoever about that army of robots."

"Well, considering that there is an Iron Man," Clint said, "I think that those robots are able to be built."

That was what she had been thinking, but she had hoped that someone else would say something else. She didn't want it to be true.

Natasha put her head in her hands. "I'm just being a baby, aren't I, Clint?"

Instead of answering, Clint reached over and put a hand on Natasha's shoulder.

"You're only human, Tasha."

"I know," she said. Then under her breath, she whispered to herself, "Barely."

As suddenly as it had happened in Switzerland, her vision darkened, and she blacked out.

* * *

"_You!" _

_A young woman was roughly grabbed and shoved against a wall alongside a few others. The line that she was just pulled from consisted of twenty women who were just as young as she was. Clad in clothes that ranged from rags to velvet dresses, the women stood, shivering, in the cold Russian air. _

"_Your name!" a man dressed in a thick fur coat barked to the young woman. _

_The woman, whose face was shadowed by her hood, acted as if she didn't hear the man. Her hair was also tucked into the hood, and the jacket she donned was long and covered most of her body. On her feet were worn boots. _

_The man once again grabbed the woman, shaking her. _

"_What's your name?" he hissed menacingly. "Tell me your full name."_

"_Natalia," the woman quietly answered. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova."_

_Sneering, the man shoved Natalia back into the line. He went along the wall, picking out women in no particular order. When there were only five women left in that line, the man turned his back to them and gestured to the guards who were watching them. The guards retrieved their guns and cocked them. Natalia knew what was coming, but still looked on._

_With five loud pops, the women fell, dead, blood trickling out of the hole in their forehead. Their dead eyes were wide open, staring blankly into the distance. Natalia felt slightly sickened at the indifference of the guards. She was lucky that she was not one of the five unlucky souls. Most of the women around Natalia seemed to be just as aghast, one of them vomiting into the white snow._

_The man in the coat smiled. "Welcome to the Red Room Academy." _

* * *

_Natalia awoke to find herself in great pain. Her body was small, so the number of tubes that were linked to her was shocking. There were at least three in each of her limbs. When she tried to move her hands, she found that she could not, as she was tied down with thick cords. Turning her head as much as she could, she surveyed the room._

_It was a large, brightly-lit room which smelled sterile. No windows were present and the only door was shut tightly. Natalia was situated on a hospital bed, surrounded by a few machines. The tubes that were in her were connected to a piece of equipment that held some light red liquid, far too light to be blood. Panicking, Natalia shouted out, hearing her voice echo throughout the room._

_Footsteps approached the door outside, and with a creak a woman dressed in white poked her head in._

"_Is there something wrong?" she asked her voice void of emotion._

"_Where am I?" Natalia croaked._

_The woman frowned and shut the door, not answering any of Natalia's questions. A minute later, a young man came in. He looked young, with dark hair and a shadow of a beard._

_He sighed. "Romanova, you are here because of the Red Room. We are just... enhancing your body."_

_Suddenly, images of her life came flooding to her. She had been a ballerina, a good one at that. There was nothing about her life as a child, only a few from the training with the Soviet state. Strangely, there were some pieces missing from her memory. It was as if her mind were a patchwork quilt, and somene had unwoven a few pieces of cloth, sewed a few new ones in, but left some holes. _

_Glaring at the old man, Natalia said, "The Soviet intelligence. What do they know about the Red Room Academy?"_

"_Everything," the man said. "They were the ones who introduced us to you, Romanova. They told us about your superior skills, even without this enhancement."_

_Thinking back at her time with the Soviet intelligence, Natalia remembered the other trainees being jealous of her. A couple of the kinder instructors would praise her for her good work during their training sessions._

"_So I am truly here for the Black Widow program, yes?" Natalia said._

_The man nodded. "I will be one of your instructors." Holding out his hand for Natalia to shake, he said, "My name is James Barnes, the Winter Soldier."_

**A/N: Please read and review! But please, please, pleaseee, no flames :)**

**Till next time, JM**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.**

**A/N: Hello again, lovely readers! I'm not very good at military-style fighting and terminology, so if there is something that I could fix, please tell me :)**

* * *

09:34 25-AUG-09, SHIELD HELICARRIER: FLIGHT DECK

"Clint! What the hell?" Natasha shouted as her partner had her arm in a tight grip. She nearly considered hurting him in order to get free, but changed her mind when she found herself on the flight deck.

It was a bright, warm morning. Workers were rushing all over the deck, occasionally signaling for a jet to take flight. A few SHIELD soldiers were jogging up and down the deck in unison with their leader barking at them to not lag behind. The two assassins went unnoticed, or if someone saw them, they didn't say anything.

"Clint," Natasha said again, more firmly this time. "What are we doing?"

Coming to a halt, Clint turned to face her, a determined look in his light eyes.

"We need to go back to Zurich," he said.

"You're crazy."

"No, seriously, Natasha." Clint released her arm, and ran his hands through his short hair. "Your life is potentially in danger. Those goddamn robot things that the mob in Switzerland have plans to build, could actually _be built already_."

Unwillingly, Natasha let a picture of a twenty foot tall machine with huge arms and legs penetrate her thoughts. She imagined that the robot would have empty red eyes, and would be ready to strike down anything in its path. SHIELD had big guns which were enough to take one of those machines down, but what about ten of them, or even twenty? They would be doomed.

A chirpy voice snapped Natasha out of the images.

"What are you doing out here, Agent Barton?" Agent Lana Birch's wide blue eyes looked curiously to him, completely ignoring Natasha.

"Agent Romanoff and I were talking about our last mission," Clint lied smoothly.

"It's such a nice day," Natasha said, hoping that her expression wasn't too sour. "It's hard to enjoy a beautiful day indoors. But what are you doing out here, Agent Birch? Aren't you supposed to be inside, writing _reports _for Director Fury?"

Lana smiled sweetly. "I have more important things to focus on today," she said, flipping her long hair behind her. "Although, I'm sure that Fury hasn't told you about it yet."

"Excuse me," Natasha snapped, "but I'm sure that I have a higher clearance level than you."

"I don't know about that."

"It doesn't seem like you know much-"

"Well, hope you have a good day, Agent Birch," Clint interjected, putting an arm around Natasha's shoulders and steering them away from the smiling blonde. "Very subtle, Nat."

"It's not like I punched her in the face or anything."

"Lana's a good person," Clint said, sighing.

"Oh, now she's _Lana_?"

"I call you Natasha."

"You've known me for ten years!" Natasha cried. "You've just met that woman a week ago."

Clint's expression turned amused. "Are you _jealous_, Tasha?"

"Me? Jealous?" Natasha sputtered. "Why would I be jealous of a slut like her? I mean"- Natasha quickly changed the subject- "Fury has yet to tell us about that all-important situation that Agent Bit- Birch had kindly told us about."

"We can find out later," Clint said impatiently. "Do you have your gear?"

"What do I need it for?"

"We're going rogue."

* * *

09:58 25-AUG-09, SHIELD QUINJET

As the two assassins fit the headset on their ears, a few workers were looking unsurely to one another. Natasha had told them that they had authorization from Director Fury to fly the jet. Clint buckled on his seatbelt and took the controls, starting up the Quinjet. Once they were clear to go, Clint took off down the short runway.

Natasha could hear Agent Maria Hill's voice through the headset, asking if their jet had permission to go. Fury's voice loudly denied his knowing, and Agent Hill began to shout to the workers, telling them to stop the jet.

"Shit," Natasha muttered. "Hurry up, Clint."

Clint nodded tersely, and just as she heard an agent say that he was going to hold them back, they had left the Helicarrier. Going as fast as they could, Natasha breathed a sigh of relief as the SHIELD Helicarrier disappeared from their sight. There had been a few incidents where other agents had gone rogue and tried to take a jet, but they had all been taken down right away.

Natasha looked out the front window of the Quinjet, seeing nothing but blue skies and clear water. She took a breath, still not believing that they made it safely off the Helicarrier. Just as she thought that, a couple of dots appeared on their radar.

SHIELD fighter jets.

"They're after us," Clint said unnecessarily.

"Rogue jet spotted," a voice said, which Natasha heard through the headset.

"Turn them around or take them down," Agent Hill said.

"_Don't_ take them down," Fury's voice interjected. "Those are my two best agents- I'm sorry, Agent Hill- and I need them alive."

Natasha looked to Clint whose hands were tightly gripping the wheel. His knuckles were white, and his face was tense. They didn't want to get taken back to SHIELD; they had a job to do. Two fighter jets pulled up on either side of their Quinjet. Both of the pilots were motioning for them to turn around.

"Agents Romanoff and Barton," one pilot said. "We need you to turn around."

Neither of the assassins replied. They wouldn't turn around and they knew that Fury wouldn't order them to be shot at.

"Turn around now," the pilot repeated firmly.

"Or else what?" Natasha said, not being able to bear hearing that phrase again.

The line stayed silent for a moment. Then Fury's voice muttered, "Let them go. If they want to go rogue, then let them be. They no longer work for SHIELD."

"But, sir," Agent Hill's voice protested. "Once Barton and Romanoff aren't with us anymore, then they are considered a threat. We will have to have them found and killed anyway."

Of course, Natasha and Clint had thought of that. Once they were out of SHIELD's protection, they wouldn't be specialized agents, they would be hostiles. Natasha was willing to risk that; if they ended up saving the world from unstoppable robots, then going temporarily rogue would pay off. But any way that she imagined them failing, they would be detained and killed either by SHIELD or whoever was planning the robot invasion.

"This is your last warning," the pilot said again. "We will open fire in twenty seconds."

Natasha glanced over to Clint. He had a look on his face that she couldn't quite read. His hands were still clutching the controls tightly.

After five seconds had passed, Clint finally said, "Fire at them."

"What?"

"We can take their planes down." He had a hard glint in his eyes. "Go now, Natasha. I'll open the back exit and you can shoot with the guns we have at the back."

Without another second to waste, Natasha unfastened her seat belt and leapt out of the cockpit. Grabbing a grenade launcher, she stood at the exit which was slowly opening. The wind whooshing in caused her long red hair to whip around her head. Once the door was fully opened, Natasha pushed her hair out of her face, carefully aiming at the jets that were trailing their Quinjet.

As she pointed the gun to the first jet, she heard the pilot begin to count down: "Five, four, three, two, one-"

The pilot got to one, and Natasha fired two shots. The bombs exploded as they made contact with the wings of one of the jets. Natasha launched another two grenades at the other jet before the pilot could begin to shoot at them. As the sides of the jets went up in flames, Natasha was afraid that the pilots may not be able to make it out in time.

"I'm hit!" one pilot said. The other pilot echoed him.

Not even bothering to try to maneuver their now-wingless jets, their seats popped out into the air with a parachute billowing out above them. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, and gestured to Clint to close the exit. Putting the grenade launcher back, she sat back down in her seat with a huff, and put her headset back on. Fastening her seat belt again, she looked at Clint.

"They'll send more," she said.

Clint shook his head. "They won't. Not now at least. Fury's not stupid. He knows that we'll probably find a way to evade them. He'll wait until we're vulnerable, then he'll find us."

* * *

10:27 25-AUG-09, SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN

They had disconnected all transmission to and from SHIELD headquarters. With one final warning from Fury telling them that they had an hour before someone started to hunt them down, they were alone. Clint was still at the wheel, staring straight ahead. Natasha idly picked at her nails, not knowing what to say to her tense partner.

"Aleksandr Bogrov," Clint said suddenly, sparing a glance in her direction. "And the Red Room. I have to know more in case we meet him or anyone else."

Natasha frowned. "No, Clint- "

She knew that she would pass out again. Ever since the day before, the flashbacks would come whenever someone mentioned the Red Room. A wave of nausea hit her just as her vision began to go dark.

* * *

_Natalia dodged the knife's blade which would have slashed her face bloody if she were not trained. The attacker came at her again, but she grabbed the arm, twisting it tightly behind his back. With a slight gasp, he dropped the knife and Natalia kicked it away. The attacker wrenched itself out of Natalia's grip and came at her again, this time with only his fists up. Natalia smiled menacingly and blocked the first punch thrown at her. _

_Almost lazily, she kicked out at the attacker's kneecaps, satisfied when she heard a crack. He collapsed with a cry of pain, but his arms were still flailing around, attempting to ward himself off from Natalia. Clucking her tongue, Natalia held her foot a few inches above the attacker's ribcage._

"_I always win," she hissed, and she brought her boot-clad foot onto his chest, snapping several of the ribs._

_The attacker's face was covered partially by a mask, but his eyes were still visible. Blinking once, the attacker went still._

_Natalia reached into the man's coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. Grinning at the number of bills folded neatly, Natalia stuffed them into her own coat pocket and strolled back out onto the streets of Moscow. Discreetly, she scanned her surroundings, finally spotting a man in a grey felt hat and a dark coat._

_When she reached the man, he barely acknowledged her presence. He didn't even look at her when he began to talk._

"_Was it clean?" he said in Russian._

"_Yes," Natalia replied in the same tongue. "Nothing will be suspected until we reach the site."_

_The man nodded. "Well done, Czarina."_

_Natalia had many names that she went by when she was doing her jobs. Barnes particularly liked calling her that name._

"_Let's drop by the coffee shop," James Barnes said, holding his arm out for her._

_They always had to assume a sort of role as to not attract attention to anyone. For her months in the Red Room, Natalia had already been out on several missions to assassinate various parties. Aleksandr Bogrov was pleased with her work, although he never quite admitted it. But Natalia could see it in his eyes whenever she beat her opponent in training exercises._

_Natalia and James walked down the street, inconspicuously looking to see if there was anyone trailing them. Once they confirmed there was no one hostile, Natalia was able to pull off her itchy mauve-coloured hat and put it in her small purse. _

_The inside of the coffee shop had a cozy feel, warm unlike the cold February weather of Europe. They found a seat in the back of the room, away from anyone else. James ordered his coffee black and Natalia asked for a cream and a sugar with hers. Once the waitress left, James pulled off his hat, revealing his messy dark hair. He held his hand out and Natalia grimaced. Pulling out a few bills, she slapped it onto James' palm, inwardly mourning at the loss of half of the cash she had taken from her kill. _

"_Damn you, Winter," she muttered, using his code name. "I almost think that you can smell money as much as the main man can smell fresh blood."_

"_Watch what you say, Czarina," James warned. "He always has someone watching you on your job."_

_They were talking about Bogrov. Even after so many assassinations done for him, Natalia still wasn't trusted entirely. James Barnes was the only person whom she could call an ally in the Red Room. He was considerably kinder than the other trainers, but still didn't treat Natalia as warm as one would be to a friend._

_Natalia knew his story. He had been good friends with Captain America until he had supposedly drowned on a mission. But __Russian general, Vasily Karpov, had found James Barnes unconscious in the waters and revived him. Upon finding him with no memories of his identity, the general had reprogrammed Barnes to become the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier was a Soviet assassin, much like Natalia herself._

_He was unstable, if she understood correctly. His emotions went haywire because of the memory implantation that Karpov had ordered to be done in him. Natalia supposed that they usually didn't let him out of their sight, but somehow, he had been given clearance to go out._

_She remembered sneaking into Aleksandr Bogrov's office one night and finding James' file. For some reason, his name was still labeled as James Barnes, even though he was called the Winter Soldier. Natalia didn't know why they still called him James Barnes and why they even told him his real name._

"_Czarina," James said. "Your drink is going to get cold."_

_Natalia snapped her focus to the Winter Soldier. He was looking expectantly back at her. _

"_Your drink," he repeated._

"_Oh, right," Natalia said, taking a sip from the warm mug. _

_Why didn't James Barnes appear to be as unstable as they had said he was? They were hiding something about the Winter Soldier that even Aleksandr Bogrov didn't know about. Natalia was determined to find out what it was._

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I admit, I didn't read the comics. I tried my best to find out what I could about all of these characters. So please R&R, but no flames! JM**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.**

* * *

10:42 25-AUG-09, SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN

A blinding flash of light and the feeling of free falling was what Natasha awoke to. The second she opened her eyes, she regretted it. Down below her, thousands of feet away, was blue water, sparkling in the sunlight. She spread her arms and legs out as to slow her fall. Looking on either side of her, she tried to figure out what had happened.

She remembered that she passed out and had a flashback. Now, she was falling to her death. The Quinjet was nowhere in sight and neither was her partner. Pressing her fingers to her ear, she cried in frustration when she found that she didn't have her earpiece in anymore. There was nothing that she could do but wait for the impact when she hit the water.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her waist and held her tightly.

"Natasha," Clint shouted over the sound of the wind rushing past their ears. "Hold onto me!"

She twisted around and put her arms around his torso. Clint reached to the backpack and pulled the parachute open, slowing them down drastically.

"Shit," Natasha breathed. "Shit. I thought I was going to die."

"I wouldn't let you," Clint said quietly.

As they descended to the water, Clint tried to steer them closer to the land that they could see in the distance. Squat buildings could be seen dotting the land, and there were a few ships sailing to and from the port. They could hear seagulls squawking faintly and the shouting of fishermen.

Minutes later, they landed in the water, less than half-a-mile away from the town. Natasha grimaced as water seeped into her leather cat suit and boots. Clint removed the parachute and balled it up as well as he could, holding it as he swam.

"You alright, Tasha?" he called.

"I'm fine!"

When they reached the docks, a few fishermen looked at them strangely. One of the men helped Natasha and Clint up onto the pier. Not sure where they were, Natasha wasn't sure what language he would start speaking in. The man was dressed in a worn flannel shirt and overalls. His grey hair and beard were scraggly and needed a trim.

Then, the fisherman began to ask them questions in another language. Natasha was pretty sure that it was Italian, but the fisherman switched to English once he saw the confused look on Clint's face.

"You two American?" he said.

"Yes." Natasha pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face. "Is this Naples? Italy?"

"Sì."

Natasha recalled a mission that she had had a couple years ago in Naples. That had been the very first mission that she had gone on without Clint since joining SHIELD. The mission had been successful, her having retrieved information from the source without detection. The only setback was that she jumped off a cliff and into the water because SHIELD had decided to send her a ride on a boat, rather than a helicopter.

The fisherman cleared his throat. "Uh, signorina, signore, what happened? How did you get into the water?"

"Our boat sunk," Clint said. "We were just a mile off the coast, so we swam here."

"Do you need a phone to call someone?"

Natasha shook her head. The last thing that they needed was SHIELD tracking them through a phone call.

"If you could tell us where the nearest motel is, that would be great," she said.

A fisherman told them the directions and Clint and Natasha set off, thanking him. They walked down the street, their clothes still sopping wet. People who passed them gave them a questioning look, but they received no comments. Finally, they reached their destination. Natasha discreetly pulled out her international credit card from her bra which miraculously didn't fall out from their swim.

Waving it to Clint who was checking his pockets for any money, she marched ahead of him and into the lobby of the motel, receiving strange looks from the tourists. As usual, she ignored them and walked straight up to the front desk.

"Welcome," the motel desk clerk said with a small smile. "May I help you?"

"Yes. I'd like to book a room for two, please. Just for one night."

"Certainly," the clerk said. "And your name?"

"Natalie Rushman. R-U-S-H-M-A-N."

Once she was handed the key, Natasha grabbed Clint's hand and led him to their room. Shutting the door behind them, Natasha collapsed on the queen-sized bed. Clint sighed wearily and lay down next to her, closing his eyes, worn out from their fall. Natasha wanted to take a warm shower and change into some dry clothes, but seeing as she didn't have the latter, she decided on resting instead.

But Natasha found it impossible to get comfortable with her wet leather suit rubbing against her skin. Clint sensed her discomfort and turned to face her.

"Go take a bath," he said.

Nodding, Natasha trudged to the bathroom. Immediately pulling off her suit, she tossed it aside with her boots. Once the water was warm enough, she stepped into the tub letting the water stream down her body. Using the shampoo and soap provided, she scrubbed herself clean, but stood in the water for a while longer.

Finally, when Clint asked her if she was alright, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. She stood in front of the fogged- up mirror, staring at her blurred reflection. Slowly, when her reflection became clearer, she continued to stare. When she was a child in Russia, before her parents died, she used to do it all the time. It was as if she expected a different person to appear; one without fire-engine-red hair and less-plump lips. She never liked how pale she was, making her hair colour stand out even more.

It was useless thinking, she realized now. Once she was in the Red Room, the way she looked didn't matter to her anymore. It was valuable to her success, as she wouldn't have been able to seduce and kill as many men, if she didn't look pretty. One of the reasons that she was chosen to be in the Red Room was because of her looks; her big green eyes put a lot of men into a trance right before she slit their throats.

Shaking her head, Natasha pulled on her undergarments which were a bit drier, and wrapped a motel bathrobe around her.

Once again, the thoughts of the Red Room caused her vision to go dark, and once again, she was spiraling down into a memory.

* * *

"_OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!" Aleksandr Bogrov shouted._

_Natalia was thrown out of the room. Her head slammed against the concrete walls and she saw spots in her vision. Another man, a trainer, roughly pulled her to her feet._

"_What the hell were you thinking?" James Barnes was glaring at her, but was still holding her up. _

"_I- I just wanted to-"_

"_Get yourself killed?"_

_Shaking her head, Natalia wrenched herself out of James' grip. Sprinting down the endless corridor, she found an empty cubicle. It was a small room, with only enough space for a shabby mattress and a wooden table and chair. Collapsing onto the mattress, with a plume of dust rising around her, Natasha sighed, and then began coughing._

_Grabbing the glass of water that was on the table, Natalia gulped the liquid down greedily. When she was done, she sat down on the wooden chair and put her head in her hands. She had broken into Bogrov's office again because she wanted to find the truth out about the Winter Soldier. The last time that she broke in, she'd only had time to read one of his files. She searched through all of them that she could find, but she couldn't find a single file from the Soviet Union. She found that suspicious, as if they didn't want anyone to know that they had anything to do with the Winter Soldier. It was either that, or they really had no idea that he was alive._

_The medical details on James Barnes had all said that he was mentally unstable. They suggested that he be kept in solitary confinement whenever he wasn't on missions. He had to abilities to kill as easily as Natasha, but it was said that he couldn't control himself. His kills were generally bloodier and less subtle. _

_From what Natalia gathered from her time around James, he seemed normal. He sometimes even was kind to her._

_Natalia had been called back to do a few jobs for Bogrov; several targets were already dead. Bogrov told her to stay until he was sure there wasn't anyone else he wanted assassinated._

"Romanova_," a voice whispered from outside her room._

_Natalia whirled around and saw the Winter Soldier himself standing at her door. He had his arms crossed and was looking to his left and right, worried that someone might see him with her._

"_Barnes," she replied, walking to him. He didn't let him in yet. "What are you doing here?"_

"_I need to talk to you."_

"_Then talk."_

_James shook his head. "Not here. Come outside."_

_Grabbing her tattered coat from her mattress, she stepped out of her room. She found herself feeling wary about James. He didn't look crazy, but for all she knew, he could be bottling it inside of himself. If she did one wrong thing, he could explode._

_They were on the roof of the Red Room Academy building. Snow was falling slightly from the grey clouds in the sky. There wasn't anything to see from the roof top except for mountains and forests. Natalia didn't even know where the Academy was located, except that it was somewhere in Russia. Shivering slightly, Natalia pulled her cloak tighter around her. James was looking into the distance, his eyes glazed over. _

_Just as Natalia was about to call him, he said, "This information that I am about to tell you cannot be repeated, do you understand?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Aleksandr Bogrov," he said, "is clueless. I am not unstable, nor did __Vasily Karpov__ have to 'reprogram' me in anyway. I know about my past and who I was. I know that Captain America was my friend and comrade back in America. I remember feeling drowning, and feeling the freezing water of the Arctic Ocean as it consumed me._

"_I knew I was dying. Then months later, Karpov found me, and revived me. At first, I was worried that they would torture me to find out information, but instead, he trained me to become the Winter Soldier. I couldn't refuse because I didn't want to be killed; I also had no idea that I would become such a dangerous assassin._

"_Then one day, Karpov came up to me and told me – threatened me- to act like I was wild like a beast. I later found out that it was to frighten the Americans who had come for a meeting. They registered me as unstable. I escaped solitary confinement in which Karpov was ordered to put me in and made it here. Luckily, Bogrov had no idea who I was."_

_Natalia didn't say anything, but instead put a hand on his arm. _

"_How did you find the Red Room?" she asked. _

_James stayed quiet for a moment. "I was tailing you," he said. "I was ordered to keep an eye on you and if you posed a threat, I was to assassinate you."_

* * *

Natasha's eyes flew open. She found herself on a soft bed, dressed only in a bathrobe. She looked to her right, seeing Clint sigh in relief.

"Again," he said. She sat up and he put an arm around her shoulder. "If this keeps happening, one day you're going to go unconscious in the middle of a fight." He squeezed her lightly. "I'm scared for you, Tasha."

"I can take care of myself."

"Going unconscious doesn't help your case."

She made a face. She didn't like being so vulnerable. Every time the Red Room was mentioned, she didn't want to collapse. Clint looked concerned for her though, so she couldn't argue with him.

"I know," she said. "Oh, and Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"I may need some clothes. A bathrobe may be a little _too_ revealing when I'm fighting."

* * *

12:02 25-AUG-09, NAPLES, ITALY

Dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that Clint bought for her at a shop across the street of their motel, Natasha was using a computer at a café. They were eating their lunch and planning their mission. Usually, they had backups when SHIELD sent them on jobs, but since they were rogue, they were alone.

With a sandwich in one hand, Clint was using his other to type. They were trying to find a way to get to Zurich as quickly as they could, and to not have to check in anywhere along the way. Natasha suggested _literally taking _a car, but Clint didn't want to attract any unwanted attention. At last, they decided on taking a plane under aliases that SHIELD wouldn't recognize. From then on in the mission, they would be known as Mr. Richard and Mrs. Francesca Berkley.

"Why Francesca?" Natasha asked Clint on the way to the airport.

Clint shrugged. "First name I thought of."

"Hell of a mind you have there, _Rick Dick_."

"Whatever, _Granny Franny_."

* * *

**A/N: Another chappie down :) thanks to all those reviewers, followers and 'favouriters', you're the people that make me want to keep writing! So please keep R&R, but no flames. JM**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I hit a writer's block. Thanks for your patience readers! **

* * *

14:52 25-AUG-09, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND

Natasha held her breath, waiting for Clint to make the signal. Crouching underneath the main staircase of a partially demolished apartment building, she rubbed her sore knees. Bored of waiting for so long in such an uncomfortable position, Natasha sighed. Clint was busy clearing a path for her to go straight to their target.

Aleksandr Bogrov was only a few stories above her. She wasn't sure exactly what she would do when she saw him. Of course, she told Clint that she had a plan, but truthfully, all she could think about was _not _thinking about the Red Room. The last thing that she wanted was to go unconscious at that moment.

"All clear, Widow," said Clint's voice through her earpiece. They had stolen ('_borrowed', _Clint liked to say) a couple of communicators from a discreet pawn shop. It had been an easy lock to pick, and they had managed to take a couple of hidden handguns as well.

"Roger that, Hawkeye." Natasha got up from her crouch, and jogged up the stairs, two at a time, careful not to plunge through any loose steps. She reached the seventh floor, slowing down to take out a Glock. Not turning the safety off yet, she held it up in front of her, making her way down the hall.

Some windows lined the walls and Natasha made sure not to flash her face through the glass; even though the area was deserted, she couldn't take any chances. On one mission, she had made the mistake of looking up to a large skylight, and there was another enemy agent up there with a camera. SHIELD had no trouble removing the photos, but it was enough for Natasha to be more cautious.

Reaching the fifth door down the hall, Natasha paused, listening for any sounds. She heard nothing, but she could feel a presence behind the wooden door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, readying herself for the fight that was sure to come.

"I can't see you, Widow," Clint said. "Where you at?"

"A door away." Natasha didn't elaborate. Instead, she took another breath, then kicked the door open holding her gun in front her.

He was there. Natasha couldn't see his face, but she was sure that it was Aleksandr Bogrov. He was sitting on a cushioned chair, his back to Natasha. Taking a step closer, she realized that he was tied to the chair, his hands and legs bound together by thick rope. With another step, she realized that he wasn't moving. Cautiously, she swiveled the chair around.

Aleksandr Bogrov was dead.

Natasha nearly threw up. What was left of his face was a tangled mess of skin and blood. His eyes were gouged from their sockets and were placed neatly in his lap; two green irises stared straight at Natasha. He had a noose tied around his neck, his head at an unnatural angle. Written across his bare chest in what looked like blood, was 'Я скучал по тебе, вдова._' _

"I missed you, Widow," Natasha read. She inhaled sharply, and then stood up, realizing that the killer might still be there. No one appeared, and Natasha relaxed slightly.

Reaching in her boot, she pulled out a fingerprint duster. Again, they had stolen that from the pawn shop. Natasha took the brush and swiped it across the rope around Bogrov's neck. Her finger brushed against his skin, and she felt an odd tingling sensation in her hand. It travelled up her arm as her vision began to go dark.

"Hawkeye." Natasha touched her comm. "It's happening agai-"

* * *

_He reached the top of the staircase and saw two figures facing the mountains. Bright red hair trailed down one figure's back, the other figure was indistinguishable in a thick coat. He marched straight up to them, infuriated with Romanova's behaviour._

"_You!" he barked, grabbing the redhead's shoulder. He found himself being flipped over and landed with a thud on the ground._

"_Shit," Natalia Romanova muttered, but she didn't make a move to help Aleksandr Bogrov up. _

_He got up, his nostrils flaring. He rubbed his aching back, glaring at Romanova. The other figure turned around. Bogrov saw the Winter Soldier staring at him unblinkingly. Bogrov's mind flashed unwillingly to the documents and files that he had on James Barnes. He barely knew anything about the man, except that he was American and very strong. Even though he himself was not anywhere near weak, he would not try to fight the Winter Soldier._

"_Why the hell were you in my office, Romanova?" Bogrov snapped. Without waiting for an answer, he continued."You are the Black Widow. There is no need for you to stay here any longer, so leave."_

"_Curiosity." Natalia took a few small steps around Bogrov with her hands in her pockets. "I wanted to know more about Barnes. Although," Natalia licked her lips with the tip of her tongue, "I don't think you know anymore than I do."_

_Bogrov's face contorted, turning redder as his expression turned sour. _

"_Enough!" he shouted. "You will leave the Red Room!" He made a move to grab her. She tried to twist out of his grip, but found herself trapped; after all, Bogrov was the one who trained her. _

_He dragged her along, almost reaching the door until he felt a hand clasp down on his shoulder. He whirled around and found himself face to face with the Winter Soldier. The man was scowling and his grip tightened on Bogrov's shoulder. When the pressure was too much for him, Bogrov released Natalia and she gave him a kick to the gut._

_Bogrov swore loudly. Natalia raised her foot to kick him again, but Barnes gestured for her to stop._

"_Leave him to me," Barnes said. "You have to go, Romanova, before someone else comes." Natalia was about to protest when Barnes punched Bogrov hard on the head, knocking him unconscious. He then walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Run, and don't stop until you get out of Europe."_

"_What about you?"_

"_I will pretend that I had a moment and attacked you and Bogrov. You fell down the side of the building." _

_Natalia frowned. She didn't want him to cover for her. After her years in the Red Room, she didn't want to have to rely on anyone. She never liked being vulnerable. Her head snapped towards the staircase as she heard people stomping up the steps, most likely the guards who had heard Bogrov's shouts._

"_Czarina." Barnes pulled Natalia closer to him then planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Go, now." He pushed her away from him and sent her teetering precariously close to the edge of the building._

"_Thank you, James," Natalia said, but she wasn't sure if he could hear her. Then, grabbing the fire hose she tied it around her waist. She took a deep breath and jumped off of the building._

* * *

A large figure hovered over her, but Natasha could only see its silhouette. She heard the figure saying something to her, but she couldn't make out specific words. She closed then reopened her eyes and was able to see and hear properly.

"James," she gasped upon seeing the figure's face.

"Hello, Czarina."

A loud thump was heard outside the door along with muffled shouts. Natasha heard static through her comm., and then she heard Clint. "Black Widow, are you okay?"

Still in a bit of shock from seeing the Winter Soldier, Natasha had to take a few seconds to respond to Clint.

"Is that you, Hawkeye? Outside the door?"

"Yeah, something's barricading it."

Sure enough, there was a desk, a lounge chair and a sofa piled in front of the door.

Barnes glanced at the door. "That your friend?"

"Yes."

He nodded and began to un-pile the furniture. Once the sofa was out of the way, the door burst open to reveal Clint ready with his bow and arrow. He saw Barnes, and then found Natasha lying on the ground. Looking suspicious, he kept his arrow trained on the Winter Soldier.

"Barton, don't," Natasha said, pushing herself up. She put a reassuring hand on her partner's shoulder. "It's James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. He was Captain America's friend. You can trust him." When Clint didn't relax, Natasha put a hand on his arm, and whispered, "Clint, please."

Reluctantly, Clint dropped his arms down to his side. His gaze caught sight of Bogrov's dead body and his expression became disgusted.

"You did that, Barnes?" He pointed to the body. "Damn. What the hell? Why?" Clint looked at Natasha as realization dawned on his face. "Is - was – that Bogrov?"

"Yes, it was. And he deserved it. That son of a bitch deserved every second of that death."

Natasha rubbed her temples. "James-"

"You know he did, Romanova." Barnes looked angry. With his dark hair down to his shoulders and his unshaven face, he looked as mental as those files made him out to be. Natasha knew better, but she couldn't help but think that he had changed since she last saw him.

"James-" Natasha was interrupted by a crash that sounded like it came from several floors below them.

All three of them started. As another crash sounded, they looked at each other.

"Not mine," Barnes said, putting his hands up.

"Shit, we have to go," Clint said. He broke the glass of a window open and climbed out onto the fire escape. "Come on, Nat, Barnes. Down we go."

**Please R&R to let me know that you enjoy reading this story! JM**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.**

**A/N: Ah, hi, lovely readers. Okay, so her memory is a different one than before because I realized that the flashbacks are in a confusing order. So the memory (the _italacized _part) that used to be here, is going to be in another chapter instead. **

**Anyways, thank you for reading!**

* * *

15:23 25-AUG-09, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND

As they climbed down the fire escape, shouts could be heard from the room they had just left. Natasha heard men's' voices hollering to one another in German and Russian and she understood that they were Bogrov's men. Natasha gestured for Clint and Barnes to hurry down the stairs, quietly so that the men above wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, a man above noticed them, called a few more men over and they began pursuing the trio.

"Shoot them," Barnes said, pulling out his own gun. With no hesitation, he fired several bullets; two men went down but there were still three left.

Clint pulled out his own gun, which he never liked using, but he wanted to save his arrows, and began to shoot at the men as well. The men were ready for it that time, and they pressed themselves against the wall of the building. Natasha readied her gun, but the men were nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell? Where did they go?" Natasha scanned the stairs above, but didn't even see a shoe from a fallen man.

"Come on, Nat," Clint said, tugging her boot. "Hurry before they come back."

Barnes suddenly went still, looking at the roof of the building. Cocking his gun again, he pushed Natasha and Clint back against the wall.

"They're on the roof," he told them. "They each have an AK-47 and one of them also has a machine gun. They'll kill us the moment they see us."

"Well, we can't just stand here," Clint hissed.

"If you want to die, be my guest."

Natasha sighed, putting her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "You two are acting childish." The men turned to her after giving each other a glare. "Now," she said, "we can just break open a window and get back into the building."

They broke through the glass of the nearest window and after checking the hallways, they set off down the staircase. As they reached the lobby, an explosion shook the entire building. The broken light fixtures above them swayed precariously and Natasha had to sidestep quickly as a light fell to the ground. Barnes and Clint were staying close by her with their guns ready.

"When can there _not _be explosions?" Clint said tightly.

Just as he said that, another explosion caused Natasha to stumble. Barnes held her steady as she tilted his way. Nodding her thanks, Natasha glanced up at the ceiling again, noticing the debris showering them lightly with white powder. They hurried to the front door with Natasha bringing up the rear. As Barnes and Clint made it out the door, Natasha found herself trapped inside the building. The door had slammed shut.

She was about to pummel at the door when someone grabbed her from behind. Her instincts made her strike out behind her, but there was nothing to make contact with. Confused, she spun around and was face to face with a masked man.

"You think you can just walk out of here?" the man hissed. The stench of his breath made Natasha gag. He had her by the waist now, gripping her suit tightly. She wrenched herself out of his grip and he laughed mockingly. "You're surrounded, woman. If you take one step out of this building, we blow the building up."

He pulled out a remote which had only two buttons on it: red, for detonation, and blue, for defusing the bomb. Natasha had to get the trigger from him because she knew that he would eventually blow up the block, even if she stayed in the building.

"Who are you?" she said, inching closer to him.

"It does not matter who I am. But you murdered Bogrov. He deserves vengeance." He smiled, but there was no humor in it. "It is only right to kill the person who killed him."

Natasha's eyes flickered to the front door which was bolted shut and had a large metal container placed in front of it. She knew a bazooka could easily blow the door open, but she didn't think that Clint or Barnes had one.

Suddenly remembering that she had an earpiece, Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief. She could take out the guys around her easily, but it was the man with the detonator that she was worried about. As a plan formed in her head, she was once again seized from behind by three others. She threw her head back, making contact with the person's forehead behind her. That person went down and the two others restrained her even tighter. Natasha smiled to herself; this was a situation she was familiar with.

She relaxed for a moment and the grips loosened ever so slightly. Natasha took advantage of that by twisting one of her arms away and then punching the person on that side. She then kicked out at the other person in the stomach, causing him to keel over. The first man charged at her again, a bump forming on his forehead. Natasha grabbed his outstretched arm and flung him over her shoulder, causing him to land on his back.

Whenever she fought, she got into a sort of zone where she couldn't see anything except for her opponents. She couldn't hear anything except for a dull buzz; even the shouts and grunts of her attackers were muted. As she threw the men around, Natasha felt as if she were possessed by some force that made her fight. Ever since she was in the Red Room, she had learned to fight like that.

Red Room. Red Room...

* * *

_"Straighten your back, Tarasova! Keep your feet pointed, Fedorov. Very good, Romanova."_

_Natalia had her arms above her head, her back ramrod straight, and her toes were impossibly pointed. She was in the middle of the room, her solo for _Лебединое озеро, _the Swan Lake ballet, was coming up in a month. After the many years of hardcore practicing, she got the part of Odette, the Swan Queen. _

_The other girls were jealous of Natalia as some of them have been doing ballet for longer than she has. At 17 years old, she was one of the eldest in the class with some students being as young as eight. One of the girls, Svetlana, was the only girl who befriended Natalia. Some of the others thought that Natalia was cold and distant and thought that she was above everyone else. After classes, sometimes girls would glare at her and spit out insults and some of the boys would jeer at her; Natalia wasn't fazed. She knew that she could easily snap their necks._

_Little the girls knew about her true identity._

_The instructor, Akilina Ivanova, was a strict teacher who didn't take crap from anyone. If you spoke out, or did something out of turn, then she wouldn't hesitate to bring down her cane on your hands. Everyone respected her, and after a week with her, they learned exactly what and what not to do. _

_Being her favourite student, Natalia was always being put into the spotlight and being praised for her perfect jet____és__. She was never chastised after a couple months because Ivanova thought that she did everything perfectly. Natalia wasn't surprised though; her physical enhancements allowed her to perform much better than an average person._

_Ivanova clapped her hands together. "Back in line." Everyone scrambled back into their position. "Now, one month from now, you will be performing the Swan Lake on stage in front of hundreds of people. I do not want any of you to embarrass our ballet studio by slipping up. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes, ma'am," the class chanted in unison. _

_"Tomorrow, you will get your costumes. Class is finished for today."_

_The change rooms slowly filled as the students changed from their leotards and back into their street clothes. Natalia was quick to slip into her trousers and loose shirt then pulled her jacket over top. _

_She heard a few girls snicker. "Aren't those _boys' _clothes, Romanova?" one girl said loudly, causing the rest of the room to turn to Natalia._

_Putting her ballet bag over her shoulder Natalia turned to look at the girl._

_"Yes," she snapped, losing her patience. "They are much comfier than that hideous green dress that you are wearing, Volkova. It looks like something from the twenties."_

_Volkova's pale face turned pink but she quickly regained her composure._

_"I couldn't care less about what you think," Volkova sneered, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. _

_Natalia shrugged. "Then why should anyone care what you have to say? Cow," she added as she turned on her heel. _

_She exited the building, wrapping her jacket tighter around her as the cold got to her. Hearing someone jog up next to her, Natalia turned her head slightly and saw Svetlana. The little girl still had her light-coloured hair in a tight bun and was smiling toothily at Natalia._

_"Volkova's face after you left was priceless," Svetlana said, hopping up and down. "She didn't expect anyone to speak up to her like that."_

_"Yeah, well, she deserved it."_

_Svetlana bobbed her head in agreement. "I hate her. She said you were soulless because you were a redhead. Do you want to know what I told her?" Natasha nodded. "I said, 'Your leotard is looking a little tight; __Why don't you slip into something more comfortable… like a coma?' She stood there like she was slapped."_

_Natalia laughed. "Good one, Svetlana."_

_"I got to go. My mommy is waiting at home with cookies." Svetlana ran off to meet a dark-haired woman who looked almost identical to her._

_Sighing, Natalia continued down the snow-covered sidewalk alone._

* * *

She felt stiff. Natasha's whole body was sore. Opening her eyes, she saw herself dressed in a hospital gown. Bandages were wrapped around her arms and one of her calves.

The smell of sterility was what alerted Natasha that she was in a hospital. She turned her head, to find that that movement hurt, but she still looked around, searching for a familiar face. She saw Clint to her right, watching the news on the television set at the foot of her bed.

"Clint?" she croaked, her throat dry. "What the hell happened to me?"

"Burned." He handed her a glass of water. "You were inside that building, fighting those guys when you passed out. Barnes and I blew up a wall so that we could get in right away. We fought those guys, and we killed them all. Barnes went back to retrieve you- you were lying in the building, still unconscious, but unharmed- then the masked guy, who was just dying, pulled the trigger.

"Barnes had just exited the building, clutching you tightly. You were just within range of the blast zone so both of you were bleeding pretty badly. Since all of those guys were down, I just had to call an ambulance."

Natasha stared at him. "You called an ambulance? What the- how did you explain all of that to them?"

Clint furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't exactly remember… but whatever I said convinced them to take you and Barnes here."

"How's James?" Natasha asked, suddenly remembering her friend.

"He's fine. He has injuries like you, but not critical. He has a broken leg, though."

A nurse entered Natasha's room, holding a clipboard. "How are you feeling, Mrs. Berkley?"

Remembering that was her name for this mission, Natasha smiled. "I'm fine."

"You have only minor injuries. No broken bones."

"How long will I have to stay here?"

"Only for a couple days."

Natasha nodded. They couldn't stay in one place for too long. The nurse left, as Natasha didn't say anything more.

"Clint," Natasha said, "what are we going to do now? Barnes has a broken bone, so I don't think he'll be able to fight for at least a month."

"We'll think of something, Nat." He laid a hand over hers. "We should be fine for tonight. I don't think you should worry too much. I know you hate being vulnerable and out in the open like this, but we can't move yet."

Sighing, Natasha agreed. She turned her attention to the news where they were broadcasting images from the building that they had just been in. All that was left were ashes. Firemen and police officers were at the site, trying to figure out what caused the explosion. At that moment, they hadn't figured out if it was a bomb, or some gas explosion.

They had found remnants of bodies inside the building. It was being determined that they had died from the explosion.

Then, a few black cars pulled up to the scene. Only a dozen men in suits and ties with sunglasses on could be seen. Then, the news station's camera's image was going grainy and the screen went dark.

The station quickly changed back to the desk reporter who said, "Oh, I guess the camera went out. Well, we'll be right back with the weather."

Natasha and Clint glanced at each other. She knew that he was thinking the same thing as her.

SHIELD had found them.

* * *

**A/N: Please R&R!**


	8. Chapter 8

17:00 25-AUG-09, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND: HOSPITAL

Moments after they saw SHIELD at the site where an explosion caused Barnes and Natasha to be put in a hospital, they began to form a plan. Clint was sitting on a lounge chair that he pulled right next to Natasha's hospital bed. Lying down, she realized how tired she was, but she couldn't fall asleep. SHIELD would find them within the next few days so they would have to keep running. Since they had gone rogue after stealing a Quinjet and completely ignoring Fury's orders, they would either be killed or dismissed without being able to give an explanation.

Clint had Natasha's and his earpieces in his pocket as the nurses would be suspicious otherwise. His bow and arrows, along with Natasha's and Barnes' guns, were stashed in a bush outside of the hospital where he was positive no one would find them. The hospital people looked at them strangely when they saw the strange, skin-tight outfits Clint and Natasha were wearing as well.

"So we have to leave tonight," Clint was saying.

"What about Barnes?" Natasha sat up straight. "He can't walk, much less run, in his condition."

Clint hesitated. He knew that leaving him behind risked the chance that Barnes would be captured by SHIELD. He grimaced at the thought that Barnes could possibly be tortured for information on Clint's and Natasha's whereabouts.

"Well," Clint started. "What do you think we should do, Nat?"

She rubbed her temples, thinking of anything that they could do to help the Winter Soldier. He could handle himself, but she wanted to talk to Barnes first. After the time where Barnes helped her escape from the roof of the Red Room, the last thing Natasha wanted to do was for him to, figuratively saying, take the bullet for her again.

Escorted by Clint, Natasha made it to Barnes' hospital room where he was laying in the bed with his broken leg in a cast. When he heard the door open, his lazily trained his gaze onto the two. Natasha hurried to him, a guilty look upon her face.

"James, I-" But Barnes gestured for her to shush.

"It's okay, Czarina," he said, reaching for her hand. She let him hold it. "I'm fine. I'll be fine… soon."

"Not soon enough," she said. She told him about SHIELD finding them and that they couldn't stay in one spot for too long. As Natasha spoke, his expression became solemn and he released of her hand. "And unless you're able to heal overnight… I'm sorry, James," Natasha finished.

He stayed silent for a moment. "Do you think they'll kill me?"

"No." Clint was at the window, looking down at the streets below. "Not right away. They'll want to know what happened to you."

"That's reassuring." Sarcasm dripped from Barnes' voice. He repeatedly hit his head on the hospital bed's frame, causing Natasha to lunge forward to stop him.

"What the hell are you doing, Barnes?" she spat, laying his bandaged head down gently back onto his pillow. "Do you _want _a concussion?"

"Maybe if I'm unconscious when this SHIELD comes, then they won't see me as too much of a threat."

"Damn it, Barnes," Natasha hissed. "You're making this even more difficult for me. I don't want to leave you behind again!"

Both Clint and Barnes looked at Natasha concernedly. Taking a deep breath to calm down, Natasha leaned against the bedside table, shutting her eyes. The outburst caused Barnes to look taken aback.

"Czarina. _Natalia_," he said more firmly when Natasha remained unresponsive.

Natasha's blue eyes flashed. "It's _Natasha_."

Rubbing his eyes, Barnes shook his head. "Just go."

She couldn't think of anything else to say, so she turned on her heel and quickly left, leaving the door wide open. Standing outside of the room, out of sight of Barnes, Natasha listened to Clint's voice.

"I'm sorry, Barnes," he said. "This sounds selfish, but we have to save ourselves. SHIELD will definitely not be as forgiving with us if we don't finish this mission."

She heard Barnes sigh. "Take care of her, will you? I see the way you look at her." He chuckled. "It's the way I used to look at her back in the Red Room. Take care of Czarina, Barton."

"Believe me, I always do."

* * *

17:53, 25-AUG-09, ZURICH, SWITZERLAND: AIRPORT

By the time Clint found her, Natasha was already halfway out her hospital room window. She had discarded her flimsy hospital gown and found some street clothes from the laundry room a floor below. They grabbed their weapons and stuffed them in a duffel bag they had stolen from the hospital as well. Taking a taxi to the Zurich airport, they paid the driver with money they had pick-pocketed from an innocent pedestrian.

They were awaiting their flight to Moscow which would be departing in an hour. After checking in under their temporary aliases, Clint and Natasha found a seat at a Starbucks and bought drinks. Sipping on her regular coffee, Natasha gazed at Clint who was flipping through a travel magazine. She was thinking about what she heard earlier in the hospital, about what Barnes was suggesting about Clint having feelings for her.

Having grown up in such harsh conditions, it made it difficult for Natasha to adapt to the relaxed lifestyle of teenagers in the present. Girls went on dates and had silly crushes so it was easy for those girls to read guys feelings. Natasha, on the other hand, only had experience on seducing guys with her outfits, only to kill them in the end. There was only one man that she ever loved, but he had died.

A champion test pilot, Alexi Shostakov, married her after the Soviet state arranged for their marriage. At first, Natasha was reluctant, but she unwillingly began to fall for him; he was charming and she had to admit that he was pretty good-looking. It was during her time in the Red Room that the Soviet state had tracked her down and married her and Shostakov. Eventually, she'd calmed down a lot, and she was distracted from her training in the Red Room. KGB wasn't happy with that, since they still needed her skills.

Then one day, a rocket test had gone very wrong, and Shostakov died. Natasha's grief drove her resolve deeper and she continued her education in the Red Room. Until this day, she couldn't forget her Alexi as much as she wanted to, even if he'd been dead for a long time.

"Tasha," Clint said. Natasha realized that she was still staring at him. "You alright?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was- I was just thinking."

"About the R-" Clint hesitated, remembering her problem. "Um, your past?"

She nodded slowly. "I didn't have a flashback though." She furrowed her eyebrows, just realizing the fact.

"Maybe they're going away," Clint suggested, finishing up his mocha.

"I hope so." She truly did.

* * *

19:45 25-AUG-09, AIRPLANE TO MOSCOW

Natasha was dozing off, although she wanted to refrain from sleeping on the four-hour flight. Clint was sitting in the seat next to her in the aisle seat; Natasha always preferred being able to see where they were going so she sat in the seat by the window. Noticing that her eyes were drooping, Clint put an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"Sleep, Nat," he murmured. "I'll wake you when we get close."

Minutes later, Natasha fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

_Natalia had been appointed title of the Black Widow after 'graduating' from the Red Room. She'd been doing jobs for the intelligence during that time. On one mission, she hadn't killed the target; an overwhelming sense of shame had washed over her as she saw the man with his family. Not knowing what had gotten into her Natalia had fled the area and didn't stop. The guilt of killing so many who might have had families to return to, had made her feel sick for the first time since her first kill in the Red Room. Then, pushing away the feeling of remorse, she had set her sights on another goal: finding out more about James Barnes._

_She did, and that was the reason she was in the situation she was at the moment._

_Plunging into the icy depths of the lake, Natalia's mind instantly cleared. Seconds later, the clarity began to fade, and blurriness began to take its place. Emerging her head out of the water, Natalia shook the water out of her ears. She looked around her and saw the Red Room building sitting at the edge of a cliff. To her luck, there was no one looking down from the roof. _

_James Barnes had just covered for her after she'd attacked Aleksandr Bogrov and had broken into his office. She knew that Bogrov would keep hunting her down until she was under the control of the Soviet intelligence again. _

_As of that moment, Natalia was considered dead because Barnes would tell everyone that he'd thrown her off of the roof. In truth, she'd rappelled down the side of the building with a fire hose tied around her waist then had no choice but to jump into the water after the hose ran out. Deciding that it was much too risky going back the way she had gotten to the Red Room, she had no choice but to go in the other direction._

_Natalia swam, pumping her nearly frozen arms in the water. She supposed the only reason that she wasn't suffering from hypothermia yet was her enhancements; a curse and a gift. Within minutes, she reached shore, shivering, but alive. There weren't any people on the land, as the area was very remote. She wasn't even sure how soon she'd be able to find civilization._

_Hours of trudging through the slush and snow, Natalia found her stomach growling, and tired and cold. She had passed a few empty cabins where she made a fire and warmed herself up. With no bed or chairs, she slept on the ground with only a thin blanket wrapped around her naked body; her clothes were laid out in front of the flames to dry._

_The next morning, Natalia reluctantly awoke just as the sun began to rise. The fire was out, and she was cold once again. Seeing no point in re-starting the fire, Natalia fashioned the blanket on top of her clothes and set off to trek in the mountains._

_Hours later, the sun was directly above the redhead, making her hair look as if it was fire in the wind. She contemplated the chances of her survival; at that moment, it was fifty-fifty. For a moment, when the harsh winds whipped across her cheeks, her hope dwindled a bit. One point in her journey was so treacherous that Natalia felt like curling into a ball, laying in the snow to wait for death. Her stomach felt so empty and her throat dry. She'd rather die quickly, than slowly and painfully._

_Finally, it was evening again, and Natalia saw the sun set. It was bright, so Natalia turned away and waited for the sun to go down. When she looked back up, she noticed that there was still light in the distance._

_Lights!_

_With her hope renewed, Natalia ran as fast as she could, avoiding the ice so that she wouldn't slip. Before she knew it, she was facing a village full of people. The street lights were all on, illuminating the quaint wooden houses and shops. People were going about their evening errands, most just walking home for supper. _

_The smell of food wafted from the houses up to where Natalia was perched, awaiting to see any dangers. Her rumbling stomach overtook her cautiousness and she set off into the nearest shop which was a bakery._

_The scent of freshly-baked bread hit Natalia the moment she stepped in the front door. She nearly collapsed with relief. She would finally be eating after an entire day without sustenance._

"_Hello, miss," the baker greeted, smiling warmly._

"_Water," Natalia croaked, basking in the heat of the shop. "Please."_

_Sensing her urgency, the baker fetched a glass of water for her and she gulped it down greedily. Finishing the cup quickly, she sighed in content. _

"_Thank you," she said. "I have been travelling all day in the mountains."_

_The baker looked concerned. "A young woman all on her own in the cold? What could possibly have caused the need?"_

_Natalia leaned against the counter. "Train crash. There was a snowstorm and- and-" she sniffed, hoping to sound helpless. "I do not know what happened to the others."_

_That night, the baker and his wife allowed her to rest in their home. Their living quarters were directly above the bakery. The couple had their own room, bathroom and living room on the second story, the first completely dedicated as a bakery. _

_The baker's wife prepared a slice of bread with butter and a cup of hot chocolate for Natalia. Natalia was allowed to sleep on their couch and was given a change of clothes. Dressed in a new pair of trousers and freshly- washed shirt, Natalia sat on the floor with the food, munching slowly as to savour the taste._

_The baker's wife, Helina Alkaeva sat on the ground next to Natalia, watching her closely as she ate. The woman looked old with streaks of grey in her hair and wrinkles, especially around her eyes. She didn't move like an old lady, but the wisdom in her grey eyes showed how much she had been through._

"_What is your name?" Helina asked._

_Natalia's thought for a moment. "Nadine."_

"_How old are you, Nadine?"_

"_I am 21." She didn't see any harm in telling the woman her real age, although she realized that it might have allowed more sympathy if she said she was younger. Natalia certainly looked as young as sixteen; her physical enhancements included allowing her to age slower than a normal human._

_Despite that, Helina smiled. "One of my sons is that age. You are wearing his old clothes, actually. His name is Maxim." Her grin faded a bit as she said, "He is in the army now. We do not know when he will return. My other son travelled to England a year ago for work."_

_Natalia didn't know what to respond with, so she nodded grimly and took the last bite of her bread. The two women sat in silence, the fire crackling in the background. Then, the baker, Luka, bounded up the steps, a huge beam on his weathered face. _

"_Adam is back, Helina!" he cried, pulling his wife to her feet. "He is coming up now."_

_A moment later, a young man, a few years older than Natalia, entered the living room with a smile on his face. He looked just like his father, with short blonde hair, but his eyes looked just like his mother's. _

_Helina rushed to her son who welcomed her in a warm embrace. _

"_Oh, my dear son," Helina said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into her son's shoulder. _

"_Mother," Adam said. "I missed you so much." His gaze found Natalia. "Who is that?"_

"_She hiked from a train crash in the mountains. Her name is Nadine. We let her rest here for tonight, until she can find a way home."_

_Natalia thought to herself bitterly, _What home?

* * *

Jerking out of her dream, Natasha sat up abruptly, but remembered that she was on a plane, going back to the place that started all of her miseries.

She thought back to her flashback, wondering why they were in such a messed-up order. The memory of the ballet studio was many years before the one that she just had. She thought, perhaps, it was the way that the doctors in the Red Room adjusted her memories, as Barnes had told her about.

She and Clint were on a plane to Moscow, Russia. From there, they'd take a train to the closest stop to the Red Room and then they'd hike the rest of the way. They had composed a plan of how to infiltrate the building using Natasha's knowledge of the floor plan. It was a vague plan since they weren't sure if they would completely blow up the building, or just take out whoever was still running the program.

They would also have to steal weapons because they knew that they couldn't get theirs past airport security. Even if they flashed their SHIELD identification cards, they knew that it wouldn't do much good because no one was supposed to know about SHIELD in the first place. Not only that, but they were now classified as rogue agents.

"Whoa," Clint said, glancing to his left at his partner, startled at her sudden movement.

"Sorry."

"We should be landing soon so I'd start fixing that bird's nest of yours on your head." He patted her hair as if to smooth her curly locks.

Natasha made a face. "Of course you'd know all about nests, Hawkeye," she retorted, lightly shoving his hand away.

With a crackle of static, the pilot's voice came on the speakers. "Folks, we have begun our descent to Moscow, Russia, where the current weather is 74 degrees fahrenheit. We will be in the gate in about twenty minutes. We'd like the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for arrival and we want to thank you for flying with us today." He continued to repeat the statement in French and Russian.

Clint whispered into Natasha's ear, tickling the skin with his warm breath, "Welcome home, Nat."

.

**A/N: I don't want to sound desperate, but I would really like some more reviews so I can know how my readers are liking my story. But so far, thank you to all you readers favouriting, following etc.(-ing).**


	9. Chapter 9

02:21 26-AUG-09, SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN RUSSIAN MOUNTAINS

It took them a taxi, train and a helicopter to get close to where the Red Room was located. Keeping as low of a profile as they could, the assassins had gotten a ride to the train station, took a train as far as they could, then flew a helicopter. Natasha couldn't help but feel a nervous feeling in her stomach as they got off the helicopter. She and Clint were ready with a new stock of weapons -courtesy of the minimal-security pawn shops- and even had a few new gadgets that they had yet to try out.

Clint had his bow and arrows stashed in a bag which he put right by his side as he steered the helicopter. Fiddling with a circular mechanism, Natasha stared out the window and saw the scenery of snowy mountaintops and dark skies. She thought back to the memory she had had on the plane; she'd been on the run but found refuge in an elderly couple's home. Leaning a bit closer to the glass, she tried to see if the village could be found, but it was hopeless.

"Nat, are we almos-" *POP* "_Fuck_!" Clint keeled over, letting go of the controls and holding his hands against his face instead.

Natasha glanced down at the gadget in her hands to see that it had gone off. Cursing as the helicopter began to fall from the sky she whipped off her headset and then scrambled to Clint's seat.

After leveling the copter, she shouted, having to make herself heard over the wind, "Clint, are you okay?"

"Hell, that device just launched something sharp at my face!"

"Can you take them out?"

"No," he responded, shouting into her ear. "It damn hurts! Whatever those were are pretty much lodged into my face!"

"Hold on, I'll find somewhere to land."

Steering the helicopter lower to the ground, Natasha found some flat land near a riverbed. Once she safely touched down and powered off the rotors, she slid off of Clint's lap. Prying his hands away, Natasha cringed as she saw three darts that had been impaled into his skin, right into his veins. There was one in his right cheek and two stuck into the side of his neck both having some blood dribbling from them. She noticed that beneath the skin around the darts, there was something round and thin like a tiny plate.

Grabbing her pack, she pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses that she knew had something like x-ray vision and put them on. She pressed the button on the side, she could see through Clint's skin. What she saw disturbed her.

Apparently, once the darts had been shot and hit a target, the points had expanded into thin disks that were lodged beneath the skin. Natasha could sense that there was something else. Changing the setting of the glasses, she was able to see the air itself and the names of the gases and fumes popped up on her lenses. She turned her gaze back to Clint and leaned closer to his wounds.

On her glasses, a label showed that there was indeed some gas emitting from the darts. It was an extremely long name, but the description told Natasha what she feared.

It was poison.

"God, Clint, I'm sorry," she said, removing the glasses and tossing them to the ground. Running her hands through her hair, she tried to think of a solution, but she came up blank. SHIELD had courses on first aid, but she never learned anything about how to save a friend from poisonous gas that was slowly leaking through their body.

"What?" Clint mumbled. "Am I going to die?" He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would help the pain go away. "Well, tell me when it's over."

Natasha ignored the attempt at lightheartedness. "Poison is seeping through your body. I- I'm not sure what to do."

"Can you take the darts out?"

"They're basically lodged into your skin. If I tried taking them out, I'd probably take off a whole layer of skin." Picturing it made her feel a bit uneasy. She'd killed many people before, in ways crueler than what she just suggested, but since Clint was her friend, she couldn't bear to see him hurt.

The two assassins sat in silence for a moment. When Natasha was about to get up to get the first aid kit, in case there was something in there that might help, Clint grasped her hand. She could see the pain his blue-grey eyes.

"Call SHIELD," he said, squeezing her hand lightly.

Natasha desperately wanted to go on and return to the Red Room. They were so close, only to return back to SHIELD two days later. Thinking to herself, she wasn't even sure why she wanted to go back there. All that was left was bad memories. Not only that, but she wasn't even sure if the Red Room Academy was still open.

Closing her eyes, she took a breath, and decided that it wasn't worth Clint's life. She needed him. As much as she didn't want to, she knew that he would always need to be in her life. They'd gone through too much to separate.

She squeezed Clint's hand back. "Alright."

* * *

03:14 26-AUG-09, SHIELD QUINJET, OVER ATLANTIC OCEAN

"_Hostages retrieved, one in need of medical attention_."

Five SHIELD agents, including Coulson, had arrived less than an hour after Natasha had hacked into their communication and told them of her whereabouts. Natasha was roughly grabbed by black-clad soldiers and put onto the quinjet, strapped into a seat. Clint was being attended to by medical from the seat across her.

The jet took off and then they were being flown back to wherever Fury had ordered them to be taken. The quinjet coasted less than ten feet above sea level, the wind blowing water onto the windows. The dark skies made it hard to see anything outside. Coulson was standing in front of Natasha, partially blocking her view of Clint. She considered moving him aside so that she could check on Clint, rather than staring out the black windows.

"Natasha Romanoff," Coulson said, putting his hands in his pockets, "I need to know where you were headed. I don't want to have you killed, and neither does Director Fury. So unless you cooperate, which I'm sure you will because you called us here, you will have to be detained."

Natasha slowly lifted her eyes to Coulson's kind face. "I was going to the Red Room." She found no harm telling him her plans now; before, it had seemed like a much bigger deal when she and Clint had first gone rogue. She told him where they'd stopped and almost everything that had happened. The only thing she didn't tell him was about her blackouts.

When she had finished, Coulson shifted and crossed his arms. "You risked your lives, jobs and pretty much everything else because you were afraid that you wouldn't be given straight-up permission to go to Russia." A beat of silence. "We found Barnes, by the way," Coulson said. "He was still lying on a patient bed in the hospital in Zurich: broken leg and unshaven. He looked worn-out."

"What did he say?"

"He wouldn't tell us where you and Barton were off to, so Fury took him back to SHIELD to question more… persistently. Barnes didn't tell us where you went, but he did tell us what had happened to him. His whole life story, basically. Fury was- er- furious because he'd wasted a whole two hours of his time."

Natasha smiled a little to herself. That was the James Barnes that she knew from before. He was a joker, at times, and made Natasha laugh, despite her cold persona.

"So where is Barnes now?" Natasha asked.

"The last time I saw him he was in an interrogation room on the Helicarrier."

"Did they…?"

Coulson shook his head, answering her unspoken question. "They didn't hurt him. Fury got some agents to find some more information on Barnes, and then realized that it wouldn't be his best idea to incense him."

A shout from across the quinjet snapped Natasha's attention back to Clint. She couldn't see what was happening to him because the physician was there, leaning over him. Instinctively, she leaped up, pulling off the seatbelt. Coulson and a couple other agents made to grab her, but she dodged them, sending a glare their way and knelt next to Clint.

She gasped as she saw what happened to his neck and cheek: there were three circular holes where the darts previously were. All of them were bleeding profusely, even though the cuts looked shallow enough. The skin around the holes, though, was tinged with green and black from the poison. As the doctor began to stitch the skin back together, Clint gripped the edges of his seat tightly, his forehead shiny with sweat.

There was a needle in his arm which was drawing out some blood; Natasha leaned closer to her partner and gripped the hand that wasn't connected to that arm. The moment she grabbed his hand, he squeezed it tightly, making it feel like her bones were being crushed. She knew that he was in more pain than her, so she let him hold onto her.

"Done," the physician finally said, after what seemed like a long time. He stood up, and then took the needle out of Clint's arm. "The poison's been drawn from his body, so he should be fine."

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. It had been her fault that Clint was hurt, and she wouldn't want to add yet another person to her already red ledger.

"Tasha," Clint murmured. "I feel like shit."

She laughed softly. "You look like shit." Her expression turned serious. "But really, Clint, I'm sorry. If I wasn't fiddling with that thing-"

Clint hushed her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm fine now, alright? Don't beat yourself up about it. I'm perfectly normal."

"I wouldn't say normal…"

"Ah, you know what I mean. But, you know, we're going to be in a lot of trouble with SHIELD now." He glanced around them at the many agents who were only lightly armed. "It's not like we can escape."

Natasha raised a thin eyebrow. They were the best agents at SHIELD that they knew of. With her and Clint's assassin-skills, could it be possible for them to continue on their mission?

"Do you trust me?" Natasha whispered to Clint, leaning closer to him so that her lips were almost touching his ear.

He creased his forehead. "Of course."

"They didn't take all my weapons."

Clint smiled wryly. "Your thighs don't count as one, Nat."

She held up one of her wrists. Around both of them were her "widow's bite" bracelets which discharged electrostatic volts (capable of stunning even super humans). She also had a few mini-grenades stuffed down her knee-high boots. Black Widow was ready for action.

But before she could change her mind, she placed her lips firmly against Clint's, catching him by surprise. On missions before, when they had to act as husband and wife, they had kissed, but it wasn't the same. They kept themselves wrapped around each other until a SHIELD agent went up to them and cleared his throat. They broke apart, Clint with a smug grin on his face, which Natasha would have to ask him about later.

The SHIELD agent frowned. "Romanoff, you are to be seated again."

"About that…" she trailed off, getting up slowly. She dusted the dirt off her legs and stood, staring defiantly up to the man. "We won't be going to SHIELD with you guys. I have a job to finish, and unless any of you are going to help us, we can't stay here." Natasha glanced at Coulson who was looking at her intently. "Are you going to help us?"

Coulson sighed. "I don't know. Fury was adamant on bringing you two back." Placing a hand on his ear where his comm. was, Coulson repeated Natasha's demand. With a few more nods and '_yes, sir_'s, he turned back to Natasha. "He says that you'll, '_have to get your sorry asses back to SHIELD_' and explain about your rash behaviour before he can make any more decisions."

"That's not good enough." With that, she held out her wrists, sending electric shocks through two agents' bodies. They dropped down to the ground, writhing. The other three agents leaped into action, holding out their handguns. Natasha electrocuted one of them, but the other two dodged her shots.

As the two agents were about to open fire, Clint leaped into action, knocking one of them out with a well-placed blow to the head. The other agent swiveled around just to be knocked out as well. He looked to Coulson.

"Are you going to let us go? Or are we going to have to knock you out as well?" Clint said as Natasha held her wrists out threateningly.

Coulson hesitated. "I'll give you two days to call SHIELD back."

With a curt nod, Natasha and Clint opened the exit, the wind and water blowing onto them. They leaped off the back of the jet and plunged into the dark depths of the waters. Sputtering, they resurfaced to see the quinjet just as a dot in the distance, and then it was gone.

"Wet," Clint muttered. "Wet again."

.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Thank you to my patient readers and lovely reviewers, followers, "favouriters", etc. Please continue to R&R! Oh!And I just found out Mr. Jeremy Renner now has a baby girl! Congrats to him and his partner (even though he would never read shit like this, lol).**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is just a short chapter that I've managed to complete for you guys! Don't expect anything within the next two weeks because I'm super busy and I'm just having some personal issues right now. **

**Thanks to those who reviewed and followed! :)**

...

3:30 26-AUG-09, NORTHERN ATLANTIC OCEAN

She remembered plunging into the cold depths of the ocean like many times before. She heard Clint mutter something when she surfaced, but a moment later, darkness began to consume her. Natasha attempted to keep her head above the water, even with her vision fading. Next thing she knew, she was in another memory.

...

_Leaping out of the second-story window, Natalia landed and then rolled to absorb the shock. She hurried away from the quaint little house with only the outfit she was given, and a coat that she took from the family. A bag filled with bread and whatever other food she could find in the home was on her shoulder. She had taken a hat as well, and her bright red curls were tucked neatly under it. _

_Her boots left footprints in the snow, but Natalia couldn't worry about it, lest she waste her time. She knew that once she reached the edges of the town that no one would bother trying to trace her. The wind and snow had started up again and the skies were still pitch-black. She could barely see anything in front of her, but she kept pushing on._

_Hours later, she found herself lost. She whipped around, but she couldn't pinpoint any stars or even the moon from behind the dark clouds. As snow continued to swirl around her, she sat down, exhausted. After a minute, she felt a grip around her arms. Using her remaining strength, she got out of the tight grasp and spun around, making contact with her outstretched foot. She heard a grunt and continued to kick in that general direction. _

_Again, she was grabbed, this time by a much stronger grip. As much as she struggled, she wasn't able to budge. A moment later, a bright light shone down on her, much like a spotlight. Once her eyes adjusted, Natalia saw that she was surrounded by no less than twenty men. All of them had guns trained in her direction. If only she had a gun or any weapon other than her own body, Natalia was positive she would've been able to defeat them all._

_She heard a slow clap sound from behind her. "The Black Widow, finally captured," a voice said, in a tongue that took Natalia a moment to figure out. _

_Then, a figure appeared at the corner of her eye. It was a man, not familiar to her, who was circling around her like she was a prey, and he was a predator. He had dark eyes, and from what Natalia could see from him, he was slightly pudgy with a rotund belly protruding in front of him. Instead of looking wary, like most of Natalia's captors, he looked amused._

"_I have heard of you, of course," he said, in what registered as to be Yiddish. "The infamous Black Widow of the Red Room. I have a great need of your services." She pretended that she couldn't understand him. "And I know of the many languages that you can speak, so do not ignore me."_

"_What services might they be?" Natalia said, scowling. She continued to struggle, but her captor kept a firm grip on her arms._

_The man smiled. "I need you to kill." When she froze, he smiled even wider. "That is your… _specific _skill set, isn't it? Well, then we'll have a deal: if you do the job and hold your tongue, then I will pay you and you can keep your life. Understood?"_

_Natalia didn't find that there was anything to lose in that offer, so she nodded. "Understood."_

…

_A baby's cry and a woman's scream. _

_Those were the last sounds that Michel Gobroff would have heard. As Natalia dropped out of her hiding place in a willow tree next to the grand mansion, she heard the man's family scream. Desperate cries for him to wake up were made by his wife, who was kneeled over his bleeding body. Natalia stowed her gun away into her boot and hurried off, sneaking away into the forest behind. _

_There, she met with one of her dealer's mob members and was handed an enclosed enveloped with what she knew to be payment. Opening it, she found herself with just as much money as she was promised. Satisfied, she set off back into the city where she blended right into the crowd._

…

_Only the muffled sound of a man choking in his own blood was audible. Natalia stood over him, hair whipping in the wind like fire. The windows were open where she slipped in. Her bloody knife was dripping down the side of her bare leg. The short black dress she donned was partially ripped down the side. Once he was dead, Natalia stepped over the man's lifeless body and out of his apartment room. _

_Tossing her knife into the chute leading to the building's incinerator, she made her way down the empty hallway only stopping to wipe the blood off her shin. The cameras in the building were already down (thanks to her inconspicuous trip to the control room) so she had no worry that she would be seen. Just as she hoped, the lobby was empty and Natalia exited the building. _

_A block down, in a dark alley, she found herself being handed an envelope with several bills inside. Grinning to herself, she nodded to the deliverer and she walked down the sidewalk, the moonlight illuminating her path down the street._

…

_Her gun was stowed in her thigh holster which was covered by her knee-length, flowing dress. Yet again, she was targeting another enemy of her dealer. Prior to the one she was currently doing, she'd had fifteen jobs. All of them were given to her by different mob bosses, drug dealers, and mafia lords. She knew that assassinations were the only way she could survive in the world. She had nowhere to go, especially since her only friend, James Barnes, was probably still with Bogrov. _

_High heels clacking on the marble staircase, Natalia descended down into the foyer where the party guests were conversing and listening to the live classical music being played. She was targeting a woman, who was found to be cheating on a drug dealer. As Natalia zoned in on her mark, she felt a cold breath down the nape of her neck. _

_There wasn't anyone behind her. _

_She scanned the room, seeing no one looking suspicious. Nodding once to herself, she took a breath and began to pursue her target. The woman had her back facing Natalia and out to the scenery. Her pale white skin shined in the moonlight and Natalia had a familiar rush of adrenaline when she pictured dark blood drenching the delicate body._

_Pushing the sadistic thoughts aside, Natalia took a step onto the balcony next to the woman who was smoking a cigarette. Pulling the balcony doors closed behind her, Natalia stood beside the woman. _

_To Natalia's surprise, the woman spoke. "He sent you, did he not?" Her tone was light, but Natalia could hear her labored breathing._

"_Yes," Natalia responded._

_The woman turned around. Her pretty face didn't betray any fear, but her blue eyes widened slightly. "I thought you would be a man," she muttered, "and do horrible things to me before you killed me." _

_Natalia didn't know what to say. All of her other targets were completely unaware of her presence until she stuck the knife through their heart or put a bullet through their head. _

"_You do not know what it is like." The woman grasped Natalia's shoulders but Natalia shook her off. "The threat of death or punishment always lying above my head if I didn't do what he told me to was horrible. I could not stand it." She shivered, her expression going slightly mad. "I had to escape. I had to leave him."_

"_I know," Natalia said quietly. "But I am sorry. I have to survive."_

_With that, she pulled out her gun and pulled the trigger._

…


	11. Chapter 11

11:03 27-AUG-09, BRIGHTON, UNITED KINGDOM

"Is that all, sir?"

"Yeah, yeah." There is a wave of the hand and an annoyed expression. "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"

In return, she 'accidently' stumbled into him with a tray in hand. When she fell onto him, he roughly shoved her off, not-so-quietly muttering obscenities. Backing away with a not-apologetic look, the woman stowed the man's wallet into the pocket of her skirt. Snatching the plates and utensils off a recently-emptied table, Natasha Romanoff scowled at a man who was on the other side of the restaurant. Catching his eyes, she mouthed some sour words at him, but all he did was smile.

Sometimes, Clint Barton infuriated his partner. After dropping the dishes off in the kitchen and seeing as there were no customers in need of her, the redhead stomped over to Clint. Even after a long morning of work, her white shirt and short black skirt were still as neat as they were when she received them earlier. Her curly hair was tied up in a tidy ponytail and her eyeliner was only very slightly smudged. Even the apron around her waist looked good on her.

Clint appreciated Natasha's looks, and wasn't afraid to stare at her from across the restaurant. He knew she could feel his gaze, but she didn't turn to call him out.

"Why are we still here?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "We got enough money." She gestured to her pockets which had two wallets, each holding at least a hundred dollars in cash, and a few credit cards.

They'd temporarily gotten a job at a local restaurant along the beach in Brighton after hitching a ride from a boat which carried them to the shores of England. Already having wasted a day finding a decent place to stay and dry off, Natasha and Clint had only three days to contact SHIELD for a pick-up. Having left the majority of their supplies on the quinjet, they had no choice but to steal the things they needed.

It was easy for them, having long-mastered the art of pick pocketing a while back, to get everything. All they needed now was a ride back to Russia. They were almost set, having accumulated over five hundred dollars already.

"Fine, let's go then." Clint went behind the front counter, pulling off his waiter's apron. Natasha followed through, and they sneaked out the back door, sure that no one was going to miss them. They'd mysteriously shown up that morning, taking the places of two waiters that had decided to take a sick day.

Passing by the closet where the two poor waiters were being held, bound and gagged, they quickly unlocked the door then hurried out the back. Once in the alleyway behind the restaurant, they changed their outfits into more casual ones.

Clint couldn't help but stare when Natasha pulled off her dress shirt, revealing her bra underneath. From all the training, her physique was slim and toned, which included her flat stomach. He'd heard other female SHIELD agents mumble jealous comments about the Black Widow's body. Every time he heard something like that, he smirked, thinking of how trivial some people could be. Even so, he still stared.

"Clint, quit gawking at me," Natasha said, pulling out a tank top from her bag. She didn't put it on yet, looking up at her partner. "You've seen me without a shirt on before."

He grinned cockily. "Not often enough."

She smacked him lightly on the back of the head. She was closer to him now, and he felt warmth radiate from her skin- oh, her lovely smooth skin. As if she knew what he was thinking, Natasha smirked, leaning into him. Clint continued to stare at her, his eyes travelling shamelessly to her chest. There, she stopped him, lifting his chin up with her finger.

"That's because you drool whenever you do," she countered, answering his previous statement.

Staring into his blue eyes, and him staring into her green ones, their heads got closer, until their lips touched. Starting off softly, the kiss turned more passionate and desperate, their bodies pressed against each other. Clint's back was against the wall of the building, his shirtless body scraping against the bricks. Once she realized what was happening, Natasha pulled apart from him. She was out of breath, and was frowning slightly.

Even though they'd been partners and friends for many years now, going on missions together and trusting each other with almost every secret, Natasha had to think about what was happening first. The last thing that she wanted to happen was to compromise their partnership.

"What are we doing?" Natasha whispered, more to herself than to Clint.

Clint sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know."

…

12:45 28-AUG-09, LONDON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Awaiting their flight to Moscow (once again), Natasha and Clint sat further apart from each other than usual. Perhaps it was the heated make out session they had in an alleyway, or maybe the subtle nerves that Natasha was unusually showing. For any reason, they were seated next to each other, staring out the windows to the planes landing and taking off, but not touching nor talking.

Finally, Natasha's restlessness gave in, and she whipped her head to her partner who was staring at the cover of a magazine.

"We have to talk," she said, snatching the magazine from his grasp and putting it on the ground.

Clint frowned. He didn't like those four words. From stories and from personal experience, whenever a girl said that to a guy, it meant they were in for a deep conversation about… feelings.

"About what?" The words came out a bit sharper than he intended so he softened his gaze instead.

"About the- you know _what_," she snapped. She exhaled rubbing her temples. "Never mind."

"I'm sorry, Nat." He scooted closer to his partner. "I know what you're going to say. It's about what happened outside that restaurant and I- if you promise you won't shoot me or something- just want to say something."

She didn't say anything, but nodded, telling him to go on.

"I have no regrets about it." When her eyes burned through him, he continued, ignoring her look. "It's only because I know that no matter what happens between us, I know that we'll be able to get over it. I mean, we've been through so much together over the years. I've saved your life a lot, and you returned the favour." He let out a breathy laugh. "Wow, that's the sappiest thing that I have ever said."

The corner of Natasha's lips quirked up the tiniest bit and Clint took it as a good sign. He didn't want to continue, or else he knew he would ramble on and might say the wrong thing. Waiting for a response from Natasha, he stared at her straight-faced profile.

Finally, she said, "Well, Romeo, I think you've talked enough. Our flight's about to start boarding." She got up, sauntering ahead of him. When she looked back, Clint was still sitting there, looking expectant.

Natasha stood in front of her partner with her arms crossed. "I'm no good with confessing love or otherwise, you know that." He just glanced at her. "I don't know exactly what I feel about you, except that I trust you with all my heart," she continued, talking slowly and choosing her words carefully. "Maybe when this mission is all over we can work things out."

After a moment of silence, Clint nodded, satisfied with her answer. "So we're not completely friend-zoning each other then."

She laughed. "I guess not. Now come on, Shakespeare, we have a plane to board."

…

_Natalia had on a tight, dark green dress that reached only halfway down her thigh. The neckline dipped low, although she was used to it having been sent on many missions before to seduce their targets. On her feet were five inch pumps with a sharpened heel which made it difficult to walk normally in. Her curly red hair was formed in a neat bun with many bobby pins. As she studied herself in the mirror, she sighed. This would be the twentieth assassination she would do this week. _

_The man who she was doing the job for wouldn't show her his face, but he gave her a name: Charles Brandt. Brandt had sent her a plane ticket (disappointingly, economy) and instructions via a mysterious entity. It was a typewritten note that had no signature. It only told her the target's name and picture, and the information for the party where he would be that night._

_She had arrived at 8 o'clock on the dot at the Weatherby Hotel. It was a grand building with chandeliers strewn everywhere and shiny golden wallpaper lined all of the walls. The guests at the party were all dressed as nicely as she was. Waiters roamed the rooms with silver platters in hand, offering bits of caviar and wine glasses. _

_Natalia glanced around the room, not yet spotting her target. As time went on, she realized that her target wasn't there. Throughout the evening, she'd seen a few men dressed in black suits touch their ears once in a while and mutter inconspicuously. Since her senses had been heightened from her time in the Red Room, she was more sensitive to the smallest movements than anyone else. _

_It was a trap. She became aware of that the moment one of the men glanced at her, and then turned around quickly. Placing her empty wine glass onto a passing silver platter, she started towards the side doors. Glancing into mirror, she saw a couple of the men talk into what Natalia assumed was a communication device. Casually making her way into the ladies' washroom, she powdered her nose for a few moments, and then stood in front of the mirror. When some other women entered the washroom, she left and made her way down the hallway. _

_Just as she suspected, there was a man following her from a distance. Finally reaching an unlocked door, Natalia pushed it open to find herself on a rooftop. It was facing the lights and buildings of downtown Los Angeles. The Hollywood sign could be seen in the distance, nine white letters standing out. Natalia had always loathed the populous cities with their traffic and pollution, but she had no choice. She had arrived to do a mission, and to find that it was just a trap._

_She immediately thought about jumping off the roof, but the ground was over eight stories below her. Breaking bones was not an option for Natalia. She had no intention of dying on her own accord either. As the man who'd been following her appeared on the rooftop, she took a breath._

"_Are you here to kill me?" she asked, facing the skyline. "Charles Brandt." _

_In response, Natalia heard an unfamiliar noise. She turned around slowly to see the man holding a bow and arrow, aiming it at her. Smiling slightly, she looked him straight in the eye._

"_Archery. Uncommon weapon choice. Very medieval ." She threw her small purse aside; there was only cheap makeup in there. "Are you Charles Brandt?" she asked for confirmation._

_The man didn't answer her question. Instead, he said, "You are Natalia Romanova. Of the Red Room."_

_Natalia was impressed, but at the same time, also a bit unnerved. She didn't possibly know how he could know who she really was. She'd used many different aliases and forged passports when she travelled. _

"_Are you here to kill me?" Natalia repeated, tilting her head to the side. "Because that's not going to work out. For you, at least."_

_With a snap, the man fired the arrow at Natalia. Reacting just as she heard the noise, Natalia rolled to the side, out of the path of fire. As the man made to fire again, Natalia charged at him, ducking as he aimed the arrow at her. He released it again and again, and Natalia continued to dodge. Once she got within arm length of the man, he grunted and used the bow as a weapon instead. He swung a sharp tip of the bow which missed Natalia by an inch. She grabbed the bow and using all her strength, tugged it out of the man's grip and over the edge of the rooftop._

_The man hissed. Abandoning the bow, he pulled out a knife instead. Natalia kicked her high heels off and picked them up, wielding them as weapons. The man slowly made his way closer to her, not charging like the other men that Natalia had fought before. He was making calculating steps instead of brash movements._

_Natalia liked that. It was more fun that way._

_Soon enough, the fight was much more than a challenge for Natalia; it became the fight for her life. The man was much bigger than her and admittedly a bit stronger as well. He managed to clip her on the shoulder with his knife. Then, he grabbed her hair, which had come out of its bun, and pulled her head back, putting the blade to her neck. She winced as the sharp tip pierced her skin. _

_Natalia kicked out blindly, her bare foot making contact with the man's shin. He didn't budge. Fear clouded her vision. _

_She was about to die._

_Natalia looked into the man's light-coloured eyes, seeing no mercy. The smallest of tears threatened to fall down her cheek as she prayed. No god would listen to her after all the sins she had committed, but she was desperate. She deserved death, she knew that, but she was still afraid. _

_Suddenly, the man tossed the knife aside and let her hair go. Natalia pushed herself away from the man, falling onto her behind. Natalia roughly wiped the tears in her eyes away and looked at him defiantly. If she was going to die by torture, she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't say a word._

_Instead of pulling out another weapon, the man ran his hands through his short hair, muttering to himself. Upon closer look, Natalia could see an earpiece in the man's ear, and realized that he was talking to someone else._

"_I can't kill her," the man said, touching the comm. "She's only a kid. She doesn't even look twenty yet." He listened for a moment. "No. SHIELD sent me to assassinate her, but I don't want to. I'll take her to base and train her myself. If she kills anyone, then put the blame on me."_

_The man pulled out his earpiece and pocketed it. He took a step closer to Natalia. She stood up, staring at the man. _

"_I'm Clint Barton, of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, also known as SHIELD." He held his hand out for her to shake. She didn't take it._

"_I am not going with you to this _SHIELD _of yours." _

_Clint raised his eyebrow. "It's either you come with me, or they'll send someone else after you to kill you." He shrugged. "Your choice, Natalia."_

_Natalia licked her lips. She sorely wanted to stop running and getting only small pay for her jobs. But at the same time, she was afraid to go with the American back to whichever corporation he worked for. _

"_Why did you not kill me?" she asked, shifting on one foot to the other. Her feet hurt from walking across the gravelly rooftop._

"_You remind me of myself," was all he said. He picked up her high heels which had been tossed to the side. "Here," he said, handing the shoes to Natalia. "Come on, a helicopter's waiting for me- well, us."_

_Natalia warily followed him to the edge of the roof. Clint attached a rope to a fixed pipe and clipped the grip to his belt. He gestured for her to go closer to him._

"_Hold onto me," he said. "I'm going to rappel us down the building."_

_She grudgingly wrapped her arms around his neck. Usually, if her hands were anywhere near someone's neck, it was to suffocate them or break their neck. Natalia felt a sort of trustworthiness emit from Clint. As soon as they reached the ground, Clint unhooked the rope from his belt and Natalia quickly let go of him._

"_Clint," she said, as they walked down a grassy pathway._

"_Yeah?"_

"_Thank you." The words felt foreign in her mouth, although they were filled with gratitude. _

_She truly owed Clint Barton with her life._

…

**A/N: As usual, R&R! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

21:33 27-AUG-09, RED ROOM ACADEMY

Two figures approached the nondescript building. Their footprints in the frozen snow were blown away by the harsh winds. The sun had set an hour before, leaving only traces of the daylight to the west of the figures. Both blended in with the scenery with grey parkas with their hoods up, and both had their hoods up. Anyone glancing in their direction would barely see them.

Of course, no one would be here.

The building had not a single window, barely a vent in sight. But one of the figures, the shorter one, had managed to find where the sewage dumped out at the back of the building, almost hidden by a mountain of snow.

The two managed to pry open the small exit, and stepped inside, not hesitating for a moment despite the smell. They'd been through many situations such as that one, even having to sleep next to a compost site for two nights straight. All those prior missions had only brought the two closer together.

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were ready for anything.

But once they reached the baths and climbed out, smelling like the sewers, Natasha felt a sudden rush. It wasn't the sort of good rush she felt when fighting. It was more of memories flooding back into her mind too quickly. She had to grab onto the grimy sink basin, feeling as if she'd throw up.

"You alright, Nat?" Her partner looked to Natasha, concerned. The redhead shook her head, her curly locks tumbling out of her hood and forming a curtain around her face.

Clint wanted to hold her to make sure she didn't collapse, but they'd had a quite awkward conversation at the airport. They were still debating whether or not to keep their relationship at a friendship level. He knew that being spies and agents, it would be extremely difficult for them if they decided to take it up a step. During missions, if either of them were compromised, they'd most likely have to sacrifice the entire mission.

It just wouldn't work out.

After a moment, Natasha recovered, breathing deeply, as if to prevent her from vomiting. She pulled her hood off and shook her hair out completely. Her green eyes met Clint's and nodded, letting him know that she was fine.

They set off out of the baths after checking that the halls were clear. As soon as they stepped out, Natasha found herself instantly familiarized with the area. Having been in the Red Room Academy for so long, she knew almost every nook and cranny in the building. The girls weren't _allowed _to roam around, but most of them got past the rules. That was the problem with training a bunch of girls to become assassins-slash-spies: they were being trained to become cunning.

And that was one reason that Clint was almost killed by a little girl.

He had been keeping as close to the walls as possible, constantly checking behind them. That was when he bumped into a young girl, no older than twelve, who was holding a gun up in front of her.

"Easy there," Clint muttered, reaching to lower the girl's arms.

Natasha stopped him, looking at the girl who was glaring defiantly back. A flicker of recognition flitted across the girl's face, but it was quickly gone. Not having missed it, Natasha took a step closer to the girl.

Then, speaking in Russian, she said, "You know who I am?"

After a moment's hesitation, the girl nodded. "You were the first Black Widow."

"First?"

"Yes. There have been two more after you, but not by the same name." Suspicion crept up on the girl's face. "You do not know this? Are you not in league with the Red Room Academy anymore?"

Not knowing what to say, Natasha glanced at Clint, who caught her eye. They silently communicated, only using the smallest movements with their eyes and head.

"We are here to help," Natasha said finally. She chose her words carefully, as she knew that the girls trained in the Red Room could tell lies as easily as a mind reader. "We are being expected."

Natasha glanced at a surveillance camera, where she knew someone, in the control room, was alerting whoever was in charge. Well, nothing they could do at the moment would go unnoticed. Just as she thought that, a dozen armed and masked men trooped in from all directions.

Clint was being grabbed from behind, and was trying to get out of their grips. His new stash of arrows and his bow were rested from him. He knocked out a couple of them before being tasered by another guard.

Then Natasha was being arrested as well, knowing full well that she could take them out with her very own Widow's bite tasers. But she relented when she saw a gun being pointed at Clint's skull.

Another man approached them, larger than the rest. He wasn't holding any weapons, but his figure looked imposing nonetheless. When he walked out of the shadows, Natasha inhaled sharply.

"What the fuck, Barnes?" she breathed, subconsciously trying to get closer to him by tugging on her captors' hold.

The very man that the two assassins had left in a hospital with a broken leg was standing before her, completely healthy. His hair was shorter and his facial hair was trimmed. He looked nothing like he did a few days back. The only thing that confirmed that it was the very same James Barnes was the look in his eyes when he saw Natasha.

It wasn't a crazed look like she'd seen a couple times when he was fighting. It was more of a guarded passionate one she'd only glimpsed once when he'd kissed her on the roof of the building.

"Language, Czarina," he chastised, clucking his tongue.

She scowled. "Tell me, Barnes. How long did it take you to escape from the hospital after we'd left?"

He smiled, which only infuriated Natasha. "Less than a minute. But that's not important. Right now, I have a much bigger concern."

To Natasha's left, Clint stirred. Groaning softly, he caught the attention of Barnes, who grinned wider. Barnes edged closer to Clint, taking the gun from the captor's hand. Holding it to his head once again, Barnes looked back to Natasha.

The redhead stared at Barnes, trying to figure out what he was playing at. He seemed to be fully on their side a couple days before. What had caused him to have a change of heart?

Then, she caught it.

The tiniest twitch of the eye caught Natasha's attention. Barnes's left brown eye had strangely flickered, ever-so-slightly. A small flash of silver had been there for a millisecond.

Natasha knew, right then, that he was under some sort of mind control. She racked her brain for other possible allies to the Red Room, but came up with none. She thought of the papers she'd retrieved from Zurich.

Now, as the thoughts came back to her, Natasha realized that she and Clint may have been focusing on the wrong things.

"Is your concern the fact that you aren't yourself right now?" There it was again. A sliver of silver around his iris flashed and disappeared again. "That's why you've been labeled as 'unstable'. It's because someone is deciding when you become a mass murderer, and when you are just yourself."

Barnes smile faltered, but his hand was still wrapped around the gun which was pointing at Clint. He seemed at a momentary loss for words, and Natasha took advantage of the moment of distraction. Swinging her boot-clad foot out, she kicked the gun out of Barnes's hand and it skittered down the hallway. Her captors reacted by trying to bind her, but she fought back, managing to knock both of them out.

The guards holding Clint dropped him and rushed to Natasha. She powered up her Widow's bite tasers and shot two high-voltage energy balls at the guards. They dropped to the ground, writhing until they went still. There were still two more, so Natasha electrocuted them as well before they could shoot her.

Barnes had scrambled to get the gun and had it pointing at Clint once again. This time, Clint was fully conscious and was staring defiantly at the pistol. Natasha didn't know what Barnes was planning as he was outnumbered, but she learned not to underestimate her opponents.

"What now, Barnes?" Natasha said, barely out of breath from the fight.

"My dear, Natalia," he murmured, his finger hovering over the trigger. "We could have had it all."

Natasha looked bemusedly at Barnes. She knew that he wasn't himself, though she very much wondered who was controlling her former ally. Just as she thought that, a figure appeared in the shadows. It was also at that moment, where Barnes crumpled to the ground, the gun going off as it hit the ground.

She felt a searing pain in her left thigh and put a hand against the spot. Her fingers came away bloody. Clint saw her, rushed over, and inspected the wound. Then behind them, the figure came out of the shadows.

Natasha gasped. Not from the pain, but from shock.

"Alexi?"


	13. Chapter 13

"Alexi?"

…

_As he was led into the room, Natalia caught sight of his fiery red hair (which was much like her own) and she was immediately intrigued. She leaned forward in her seat, smoothing her curly hair back. No one had told her who the mystery-man she was meeting was. All she knew is that she was set to wed him. There was no way to refuse the plans, or else she'd be executed or punished severely._

_Then, the man appeared from behind the two Red Room guards and smiled at Natalia. His grin was genuine, if not a bit hesitant. He was quite tall, even compared to the buff guards next to him. The thing that stood out to her the most was his bright blue eyes. They caught hers, sparkling as if they shared a secret._

_That was the moment when Natalia knew she had fallen for Alexi Shostakov._

…

_It had been seven months since they tied the knot. The ceremony was informal, not even a priest had been present. Only a high-ranked KGB officer was there and neither Alexi nor Natalia had to say any vows. A small, gold band was placed on both of their fingers and the deal was sealed with a small peck on the lips. _

_Alexi, as was told to Natalia, was the one of the Soviet Union's most acclaimed test pilots. She was told that Alexi had seen footage of her in the Red Room and was impressed. He wanted to meet her straight away and surprisingly, the KGB agreed. Of course, Natalia questioned the laxness of the KGB, but every time she asked Alexi, he would steer the conversation away._

_Natalia stopped asking questions after a couple months. She was ever-so consumed in her love with Alexi, that she'd paused her Red Room training. For some reason, Bogrov never complained about it. The other girls in the academy looked at her enviously as she was allowed to skip all the grueling exercises. She hardly noticed it though, always having her thoughts on Alexi. _

_Deep inside, she knew that it wasn't good for her, being so focused on a man. But she couldn't help but push away all thoughts of concern. Those long years she'd had with the Red Room had made her long for a break, so she knew she had to cherish the moments with Alexi while she had them._

_Then one day, a Soviet official had told her that her husband had died._

_The pain she felt was hidden away and she took the news with a blank face. Instead, she had turned her sorrow and hurt into determination during her training. Whichever girl she was practicing with that day left almost in tears. She'd seen the smug looks that some instructors had exchanged with each other._

_One time, Natalia had snapped, and smacked a girl across the face after she'd heard her make a comment about Alexi. James Barnes intervened before Natalia could do any real damage against the girl. _

"_What the hell, Romanova?" he hissed, pulling her out of the training room. He led her to an empty room, closing the door behind them. _

"_The little bitch was saying how she's glad Alexi is dead." Red clouded Natalia's vision. When she saw Barnes' unsympathetic expression, she scowled. "It is not like you care, Barnes. I saw the way you looked at Alexi; like he was a worm."_

_Barnes' jaw twitched. He took a deep breath. "If you knew the truth, you would not grieve so much over your husband."_

"Ex_- husband," she corrected. "The truth? I know the truth. He is dead."_

_Barnes shook his head. "You do not know anything, Natalia. You think you do, but you do not. Do not lay a hand on me," he said quietly, as Natalia had raised a palm, her eyes flaming. "I am still above you, and I can subject you to punishment. I have been lenient with you already."_

"_Why have you been so kind?"_

"_In time, you will know. But I cannot tell you." Barnes laid a gentle hand on her tense shoulder. "Promise me something, Natalia." She nodded. "Do not go looking for a fight. Being in the Red Room, you will gain many enemies who will come for you. When you become the Black Widow, you will be in even more danger. I know that you can fend for yourself, but one day, there will be a force that even you cannot defeat. _

"_Alexi is- would be- proud of you. Do him a favour and do not try to get yourself killed."_

_After a moment of silence, Natalia looked at Barnes. "Did he truly love me?" she whispered, in such a vulnerable voice that she surprised herself._

"_Yes, Natalia, I believe so."_

…

21:53 27-AUG-09, RED ROOM ACADEMY

"Yes, it is I."

Alexi Shostakov was standing before Natasha. He was wearing a black suit, looking as dapper as he had when they had gotten married so many years before. He looked the same as Natasha remembered, only with a look of weariness in his blue eyes.

In any other situation, it would have been rather comical; the fact that three men -that she may or may not have had romantic feelings for- were in the same room with her. Clint was looking between her and Alexi with a look of bemusement. Barnes was still on the ground, unconscious.

"I thought you were dead," Natasha blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Did you?" Alexi made a show of patting himself down before saying, "I think that I am very much alive."

"Quit the games." Natasha looked up at her ex-husband. "Where have you been these years? You were supposed to have died in a rocket test."

He shook his head. "Oh, no, my dear. That was just a lie. KGB is quite clever sometimes. I am, in fact, known as the Red Guardian."

While at SHIELD, Natasha had looked through all known-enemy files, and had skimmed across one labeled Red Guardian. There was no other name, as SHIELD didn't know who was in the suit. Natasha made sure to fill out the identity as soon as she got back to the Helicarrier.

Clint had stayed quiet the whole exchange, not sure exactly what was happening. He scanned their surroundings, and saw that that Alexi was alone. With his puppet, Barnes, unconscious, and the guards in the same condition, he was alone for the moment. He wasn't keen on letting Natasha get so close to the Red Guardian (seriously, KGB was terrible with thinking of names), but nonetheless, he let his partner try to handle the situation first.

"What happened to you?" Natasha muttered, staring into Alexi's eyes.

"Bogrov was an idiot," he stated. When Natasha looked confused, he grinned. "You truly are a stupid girl, aren't you? Bogrov wasn't the leader of the Red Room. The ignorant man thought that the KGB had made him the head of the academy, when all along, it was me. It was always me.

"You see, I had been the one who gave KGB the idea to begin the Black Widow program. I knew that whoever was appointed the title would be worthy to become my wife. I chose you, even before you become the Black Widow because you were the only one I saw potential in. But then you started asking questions. You weren't as brainwashed as I hoped you would be, so I faked my death. I knew that my death would drive you further into the program."

The first reaction Natasha had to the story was to backhand Alexi. The loud slap echoed through the empty halls.

Alexi chuckled darkly, rubbing his red cheek. "I forgot how feisty you were."

"You lied to me," Natasha hissed, leaning close to him. "You bastard. I thought that you loved me, but that was all a lie."

"Yes, it was, Natalia." He gestured to the unconscious man on the ground. "When Barnes found out that I was alive, he tried to run off to tell you, but I stopped him. I placed a chip in his head, so I could control him whenever I wanted. Pathetically weak, if I could say so myself."

Alexi snapped his fingers, and Natasha heard a footsteps descending down the hallways. Seconds later, girls poured in around them, at least thirty of them with silver lining their eyes.

"You're a monster," Natasha breathed, taking in the sight of the mind-controlled girls.

"I prefer to be called ruthless." With that, he clapped his hands, and the girls began to converge on Natasha and Clint.

...

**A/N: Thank you so much for those reviews! They make me very happy :) **

**I haven't read the comics, and I'm sure the majority of you reading this have only watched the movie, but I've changed a few things to fit with my story. Like, I know Alexi wasn't actually the starter of the Red Room and such.**

**Anyways, thank you my lovely readers!**


	14. Chapter 14

22:07 09-AUG-27, RED ROOM ACADEMY

Her instincts kicked in first. Natasha pulled out her guns from their holsters and aimed them at the approaching wave of girls. Alexi had put them under some sort of mind control, and ordered them to attack her and Clint. She was about to fire but she hesitated, and instead, lashed out with her fists, knocking a blonde girl out.

"Clint," she called out as she saw him about to release an arrow, "don't kill them. Just knock them out."

Her partner looked confused, but lowered the bow and kicked the next girl in the stomach. They continued on for a few minutes, winding or knocking out the girls. Though they weren't tired, they finally realized that they were outnumbered; the girls kept flooding in from all four hallways.

One girl got a hit to Natasha's thigh wound and the Black Widow saw red cloud her vision. She stumbled back, wincing, as the girl advanced, brandishing her fists. The girl swung a fist, and Natasha barely blocked it with her forearm. Once again, the girl slammed her foot into Natasha's wound, and Natasha fell backwards.

As the girl was about to kick her again, Clint appeared behind the girl and smashed his fist into her temple. The girl collapsed, falling next to Natasha on the ground.

Clint held out a hand to his partner. She took it, but as soon as she put weight on her left leg, she almost fell.

"Damn," Natasha mumbled, wincing again. She probed her wound, feeling the bullet still lodged into her thigh.

"Nat, we should-" But Clint was disrupted by a wave of girls surrounding them. He stood in front of his injured partner and fended the girls off. Finally, after knocking out at least a dozen girls, there weren't any left. He also realized that Alexi and Barnes were gone as well.

Scanning the halls, he found them empty of movement. The unconscious Red Room girls were strewn around the area. Clint saw a few feet and hands twitch, and he knew that they had to hurry before the girls woke again.

"We have to go," he said, hauling Natasha up. He placed her arm around his shoulders, letting her use him as a support.

She didn't protest as he led her down a hallway, not stopping until they reached a set of double doors that was familiar to Natasha. Despite them being locked, the doors swung open as Clint kicked them.

Wind gusted in as the doors to the roof opened. A wave of dread washed over Natasha as she felt herself being pulled into another memory…

But for once, she was able to swim out of the darkness, focusing on her partner's strong arm around her waist. She couldn't let Clint try to get them out of the Red Room alone. _She _was the one who knew this place. _She _was the one who had to lead them to safety.

"Clint, there's no way out of here except jumping into the water." She peered over the edge, remembering the many years ago when she did just that.

"That's right. There is no way for you to escape."

Natasha groaned inwardly as she heard Alexi's voice. Clint still had his arm around her waist, and he held her tighter, almost protectively.

"I can handle him," she muttered into her partner's ear. Reluctantly, he let her go and she hobbled over to her ex-husband. "Are you going to try to kill us again, Alexi?"

"Of course," he answered. "Your little Robin Hood over there, at least, will be killed. But, my little spider, I give a choice." He paused, as if for a dramatic effect. "Marry me, and you and your partner survives, or don't, and you both will die."

Natasha did a double take as the words registered in her mind. "Marry _you_?" she choked out.

Her partner glanced up, distress showing in his light eyes. She knew that if Clint ever showed any emotion in front of the enemy, was because he was desperate. In all the missions before, Clint only shown weakness when Natasha was in grave danger, or compromised.

Natasha was similar to Clint, in the way that she was concerned for her partner's safety. They'd been through so much together, that she couldn't bear to watch him die. But even if she accepted Alexi's offer, she knew that something inside Clint would die anyway.

"Why do you want to marry me?" she asked. "You tried to _kill me_ just five minutes ago."

"Yes, yes, that's true. But now, I realize that you are perfect for me." He placed his hands behind his back and began to pace across the roof. "You see, Natalia, I need someone by my side. Barnes is no good company, being under my control most of the time. None of the girls in the Red Room catch my eye either. But you have everything I want. I need you.

"Together, we can be unstoppable. You are _the _Black Widow, formerly Russia's best assassin. You can help me get rid of anyone who tries to stop us. My goal is to start by ruling Russia, taking over their government, remaking their army with my mind-control serum. It's simple, Natalia. All you have to do is accept my proposal, and you and your partner will be safe."

She hesitated for a moment before taking his outstretched hand. Natasha glanced over at Clint who was looking almost heart-broken.

Alexi smiled widely. "Wise choice, my little spider. Now come along with me, we have some work to do. Your partner can stay in the bunkers. Locked up, no doubt. He'll be no trouble for the two of us."

As Alexi began to pull Natasha to the doors, she stood firm. "Just a moment, darling. Can we talk for a moment?"

Alexi looked momentarily confused. "Um, yes, I suppose."

She dragged him closer to the edge of the roof, looking out into the distance at the silhouette of the mountains in the dark skies.

"Remember those many years ago when we were married? I recall our nights in bed." She smiled slyly. "Those wonderful nights. All those secrets that we told afterwards. Do you remember that?"

He nodded slowly, unsure where she was steering the conversation.

"I also remember you telling me a very specific secret. Have any guesses on what it was?"

Alexi shook his head. Natasha let go of his hand, but leaned closer to him, having to tippy-toe. Her lips were almost touching his ear. She placed two hands on his shoulders, turning him so that his back was facing the mountains.

"You told me that you couldn't swim," she breathed.

With that, she shoved him roughly, taking a step back so that he couldn't grab her as he fell. He tumbled over the short railing, flailing as he tried to grab anything to prevent him from falling into the depths of the ice-cold water.


	15. Chapter 15

22:29 27-AUG-09, RED ROOM ACADEMY

As soon as he heard a splash, Clint rushed over to Natasha. He enveloped her in his arms, almost squeezing her. After a moment, Natasha returned the hug, burrowing her face into her partner's shoulder.

"For a moment I thought I lost you, Tasha," Clint muttered.

"I know you'd always try to find me," she replied, her voice muffled from Clint's shirt.

Instead of answering, he lifted her chin up with his finger and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was long and sweet, not desperate and not rushed. As they stood near the edge of the roof, with the moonlight shining down on them like a spotlight and the breeze ruffling their hair, Natasha knew she was safe for now.

With Clint, she was safe.

.

03:46 28-AUG-09, SHIELD HELLICARRIER

Nick Fury's good eye was glaring at the two assassins. The two could feel the intensity from his eye, and also from the eye patch.

They'd called Coulson and he had picked them up by helicopter. They switched to a quinjet and flew to where the Helicarrier was situated in the sky. Natasha's leg had been tended to by medical; thankfully they had tended to the leg before it needed to be amputated. The ride had been a quiet one, Coulson still angry with the two assassins for running off without telling him where they were going.

Once they landed on the Helicarrier, they were directly escorted to Director Fury who was waiting for them with a poker face. The moment they sat down at the conference table, he told them, quietly, to tell him _exactly_ what had happened.

They told him everything, leaving out their little make out sessions. When they were done, Fury sat, his chin resting against his clasped fingers. He seemed pensive, but finally stood up, towering over the assassins.

"So Alexi Shoshtakov is dead?" he asked.

"Yes."

He nodded. "And what of Barnes?"

"No sign of him," Coulson piped up from the doorway. He had been standing there for the entire time they'd recounted their mission.

Fury nodded again. With a swish of his long black coat, he proceeded out the room, brushing by Coulson.

He paused, looking over his shoulder at his two best agents. "I want a mission report in two days from both of you. Understand?"

Clint and Natasha sighed with relief. They thought that he might still kick them out of SHIELD.

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

Fury left, and Coulson went up to the agents. "Welcome back."

"It's good to be back," Clint replied. "Northern Russia is damn cold."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I was there for almost all my life, so don't complain, Barton."

"Well I'm from Iowa," he said, as if that concluded his argument.

Coulson cleared his throat. "I must remind you two that you are, in fact, SHIELD agents, and therefore will still be given missions."

The two assassins looked at him wearily. He noted how tired they looked, with dark bags under their eyes and an overall aura of exhaustion.

He looked apologetically at them. "You get 12 hours to rest. You're then to report to me so I can give you your mission."

"Yes, sir," they said again, smiling at their handler.

"Now go to sleep, Romanoff and Barton. You have a long week ahead of you."

.

11:50 28-AUG-09, SHIELD HELLICARRIER

Natasha jolted awake at the sound of someone opening her bunker door. Not to her surprise, it was Clint. He looked just as worn-out as she felt as he shuffled over to her bed.

"Sorry to wake you," he muttered apologetically.

She gingerly moved her wounded leg so that he could sit, still holding the thin blanket around her waist. It was a habit, always sleeping with a blanket. She supposed it was almost like a last defense against anything that would try to attack her at night. Foolish and childish thinking, she knew that, but she couldn't break the habit.

"I was just thinking-"

"That can't be good," Natasha said, smirking.

"Seriously, Nat." He pulled his sock-covered feet onto the bed, crossing his legs. "I was thinking about what we talked about at the airport in London."

She sighed. She hadn't forgotten about it, as much as she would have liked to. They'd talked about their relationship and she'd said that they'd talk about it after their mission was over. She mentally smacked herself about it.

"Where do you want our relationship to go?" she asked, that being the safest way for her without her having to admit any feelings.

He thought for a second. "I really do care for you. I know you know that." Clint ran his hands through his hair, chuckling breathily. "I do want to take our relationship to the- er- next level. I mean, we don't have to call it that, but-"

Natasha cut him off by leaning over and kissing him. Her hands were on either side of his face; she felt the stubble along his jaw line. When they broke apart, she smiled.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Okay."

.

12:37 28-AUG-09, SHIELD HELICARRIER

As they walked down the hallway of the Helicarrier, they didn't hold hands, as much as they wanted to. They wanted to keep their relationship under wraps, knowing that it could potentially affect their missions if anyone knew. Instead, they bumped shoulders occasionally, or brushed their fingers against each other.

Natasha knew that it was risky business, being in a romantic relationship with her mission partner. Other agents had been sacked for compromising a mission, trying to save their beloved. That was the last thing that she wanted to happen, lest she lose the title of the cold-hearted Black Widow.

The few minutes they had just spent in her room, just holding each other, made Natasha wonder if she could still be the Black Widow with love in her heart. She glanced over at Clint, whose blue-grey eyes she'd come to love, were already looking at her.

They reached the control room where the giant panel of glass looked out into the blue skies and white clouds. Coulson was already there, reviewing some notes in a folder he'd been handed. When he heard their footsteps, he looked up at the assassins who were already dressed in their SHIELD gear.

"You still have three hours of rest," he said.

"We realize that," Natasha replied, "but I think this should be a sort of apology for going rogue."

Coulson gave her a small smile. "How's the leg?"

The redhead shrugged. "Bearable."

"Then here is your next mission." Coulson handed her a folder. "I'm sorry to say that it is a solo assignment." Clint was ready to protest when Coulson held up a hand. "It isn't a dangerous mission. Agent Romanoff is only required to observe a certain billionaire."

Natasha opened the folder and scanned the page. "Anthony Stark, owner of Stark Industries." She smirked. "Well this should be fun."

"This is the beginning of Phase 1, Agent Romanoff." Clint glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one else was within hearing range. "Iron Man is needed for the Avengers, and you are to write a character profile for him. You will be situated in Los Angeles under the name of Natalie Rushman. I hear Pepper Potts had been appointed CEO of Stark Industries, and she's looking for an assistant."

"What about me, sir?" Clint asked. Coulson handed him a folder as well. "Budapest. So I'll be in Hungary while Nat's in sunny California."

"I hear it's pretty nice there this time of year," Coulson replied. "You will be situated there for a month, Agent Barton. There is a suspected big drug-trafficking business happening underground. You and Agent Birch are to be partners for this mission."

"What the hell?" Natasha blurted out. A few agents at the computers glanced up at her.

"I think that you two would be better suited to be apart for a few weeks after the whole rogue-mission fiasco."

She clucked her tongue, feigning disappointment. "You're cruel, Coulson."

"Your planes leave at 1600 hours."

They were dismissed, and they set off out of the control room. Almost subconsciously, they walked to the flight deck where the wind could cover their voices. Natasha took Clint's hand, despite the few SHIELD agents who were on the deck.

"I'll visit you in Budapest," she murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

"I'm not going there on a vacation, Tasha. For all I know, I could be in the middle of taking out a mob when you step off of your plane."

"I'll be by your side then. I'll fight with you. You know we can beat anyone who tries to kill us."

"We're only human," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "No, we're just a spider and a bird."

.

**A/N: C'est la fin de l'histoire! I can't believe The Spider and the Bird is finished. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers, you've all been very supportive :) There probably won't be a sequel to this because there are already a lot of stories about them in Budapest. Anyway, I'll probably be starting another Avengers story sometime this month. If you're interested, check it out when it's published!**

**Au revoir! JM**


End file.
